[utterlyconfused]

I saw this thread on another forum, and I'm curious about how some you got to where you are and where you are now. Here's mine

For me, it all started in 5th grade.

I moved in 4th grade, and I finished out my school year at the only school I had ever gone to. Then I went to a new school with different people, and no friends. I was really shy and scared and extremely pissed off at my parents for making me leave my best friend behind. In 5th grade, I met my friends Amanda and Angele. They were both amazing, but Angele's dad was murdered that February on Superbowl Sunday. He was like my second dad, and I was completely lost. We all helped each other get through it. Then came along the hell hole otherwise known as middle school.

6th grade was okay. I had a lot of friends, I was reunited with old ones, and I was ready to move past the death of my friend's dad. Then my dad got in a fist fight, and was screwed over by some crazy ***** that said he tried to strangle her when it was really just self defense. I watched the whole thing go down. My dad is now a registered felon, and he was on probation for a year. In 7th grade my brother was born. The poor kid... he was born in the middle of the perfect storm. My dad was extremely depressed and suicidal. My parent's marriage was on the rocks, and I was being neglected emotionally, and this is when the verbal abuse started. I was bullied in school, and all of my friends were turned against me. In 8th grade, I started to realize that I didn't want to eat anymore. My depression was slowly taking hold of my life. My best friend and I were tying to make it through, although our friendship was slowly deteriorating. I decided to go to one of those special schools where you're supposed to graduate with a two year degree along with your high school diploma. I wanted to get away from the bullies and I wanted to start fresh--take a leap of faith.

High school... the best four years of your life. Yeah, okay. My depression went into full swing, and so did my dad's. I just recently found out about this, but he attempted suicide my 9th grade year, but the gun clicked and my mom took it away from him. I started restricting that year and I quickly got addicted to self harm. I was so numb, and angry at everyone and everything. I didn't understand why my brother got all of the attention. I didn't understand why I wasn't good enough for my family or my boyfriend's family. My boyfriend at the time was the only person that I really talked to at this point. I started to go to church my 9th grade year too, and that helped me out a lot. There were people there who could actually relate to what I was going through, and I was slowly getting happier. My boyfriend's mom found out about my cutting, and so she decided to call the school's guidance counselor and report me. The next day, I was forced to show my gc my arms and she sat me down and we talked it through.She said she wouldn't call my parents as long as I promised I wouldn't do it anymore. I promised and just made sure I avoided her and when my arms were clean, I would make sure I walked by her with my sleeve pulled up so she wouldn't get too suspicious. That summer I broke up with my boyfriend. He was trying to get into my pants and I wasn't about to do that. 10 grade was my recovery year... I joined the cheerleading team so I would have to eat and I wouldn't be able to cut because of the uniforms. It worked. Cheerleading saved my life. 11th grade was great too! I quit cheering, though, and became more involved in my studies. I also felt really alone because my best friend at church moved away and started to go to college.

Now I'm here. A senior in high school. This year has been hell. My current boyfriend and I have been together for about 2 years, but now I am going through the process of ending things. He is the pastor's kid, and I feel like I'm on some giant pedestal and I hate it. I don't feel like I deserve to hold that position because I relapsed in my cutting and severe restricting. I feel like I do nothing but cause him pain, and I know I am in no mental state to be in a relationship. My uncle and great grandad have died during this school year. They died 3 months apart, and this caused me to have panic attacks. I would wake up from dreams having one, or my parents would be fighting and yeah... it was just bad. There is one night in particular that I can without a shadow of a doubt say has been the worst night of my life. It started off with my parents fighting, I got involved (more like drug in), then I had a panic attack. When I was able to move without needing to hold on to something, I went to my room, got my razor, and started to cut. It was the only way I knew how to cope. I told my mom that if things continued like this, I would be packing my bags and staying at a friends house for a few days. This broke my dads heart and he said to me, "you really think you've got it that bad? I can go end it all right now." What the **** was I supposed to say to that? He walked out of my room and fired his gun 3 times in the back yard. I didn't know this at the time, and I thought I led my dad to commit suicide. I had another panic attack and I continued to cut and cut and cut. I guess I just needed the blood to show me that this was all real. I felt like I was in someone else's life. I couldn't believe that I was living this.

Over the past few months, things have gotten a lot better. My dad has tried to stop smoking and drinking, and he is a lot happier now. The whole family is. My dad and I are slowly rebuilding our relationship. He broke his hip this past Monday, so he has been told he will probably be out of work for about 12 weeks, so he and I will be spending a lot of time together. In a way, this is one of the best things that has happened to our family. We are being forced to learn how to communicate and how to work together to keep things going.

I am still struggling with self harm and my eating disorder though. I came here to find people that I could relate to and not worry about how anyone would really react. Just as long as I could find support. I have been put on antidepressants which are actually making my triggers much more sensitive. I'm going to my psychiatrist on Wednesday to hopefully talk about that and get that straightened out. My therapist has been amazing though. When I was referred by my doctor, I was terrified even though I wanted the help. She is working with me to help me see myself how others see me. When I look in the mirror, I see a worthless, fat, ugly piece of ****. I know that others see the polar opposite of me though.

My t has told me that hospitalization is in my future if I continue restricting the way that I am. I've only been seeing her for about 4 months and she said that she has seen severe weight loss. So right now, I'm trying to eat enough to doge the hospital, but I want to see the scale go down. I want to get tinier, Eating is really hard, and when I do eat, I can't control myself. I would so much rather just sip on my water and say, "I'm not hungry". I don't know how my mental mindset ever got this bad. I started off just dieting, but it quickly turned back into my ed that I had in 9th grade.

Sorry this was so long! This is how I ended up where I am though!

It's really good that you are seeing a psych. It sounds like your family situation has been really tough... I'm sorry you had to go through that but I'm glad it's looking up now.

I know it's a stupid pointless thing so say, but please don't starve yourself... I have witnessed people with eating disorders and you will be much more attractive (not to mention healthy) if you are at your naturally healthy body weight... being a skeleton will actually make you less attractive. I know getting over an eating disorder is not as simple as someone posting that to you on a forum but I'm being honest...

There is a self-harm and an eating disorder sub-forum here that I think you can get some good insight into those issues by posting there or just reading the posts. But I see you have made a lot of posts so hopefully you are already in those sub-forums getting support.

My problems are very different from yours but I have a lot of problems that I can barely cope with myself. Please try to take care of yourself and massive, over-poweringly-strong bear hugs to you

[Altered Moment]

You can find mine here. It is long. I wrote it when I first joined. I will read yours a little later.

http://forums.psychcentral.com/depre...ife-story.html

[bronzeowl]

It sounds like your family situation has been rough. I just wanted to wish you all the best in recovery. Recovery seems so hard, but I like to think it's possible. And I know that when we reach it, it will be worth it in the end.

As for my story, I don't share it in its entirety often. I've been thinking about posting it since last night when I initially saw this thread, but kept deciding not to. I'm a pretty closed off person. I will often discuss my feelings here, but I seldom discuss them elsewhere. And I very seldom discuss my past at all. As a result, I guess, my past seems like it was another lifetime ago...

In my case, it probably started before I was born. Seems strange to say that, but I'd wager that it's true. My parents came here from Michigan. My dad was wanted in Michigan, I suppose that's part of why they left. That and they had dreams of doing something more. They were heading for California, their car broke down when they stopped to visit relatives in NC. That story has probably been told a hundred times - just switch NC with any other state. It seems everyone has dreams of heading west to California. With no money, they quickly fell into poverty. Dad worked several jobs. Sisters were born. And then dad's past caught up with him. Shortly thereafter, I was born.

I never met my father. I suppose that's why I shrug nonchalantly when people 'apologize' (why do people apologize regarding deaths? That will never make sense to me) for what happened. Of course, as a psych major, I'm VERY aware that the lack of a father did affect me. I only wish everyone else realized it. I can't count the number of times I've heard You can't miss what you never had. Which is a dang shame. Because when it comes to parents. Yeah. You can. Anyway. He was sent back to Michigan, where he was in prison for some time. My mom always tells me that the only time he met me, he had to hold me with cuffs over his wrists. Eventually, probation was granted. Long story short, he came here, and committed suicide.

I don't seek pity over it. Things happen. It wasn't long before my mother met my step father. They married and had a son, my brother. Since this man was the only 'father' I ever knew, for some time, I actually believed he was my dad. Until my sisters - very callously - informed me that he wasn't. As a kid, I took to a stuffed giraffe. That thing and I were inseparable. Looking back, I wonder if my lack of a father had something to do with my attachment to that smelly thing. My step dad was a truck driver, so he was seldom home. And as it would turn out, he had a 'second family' in Michigan. So, he didn't last long, either.

After him, came the man that would live with us for some eight years. I was always a quiet kid. My mom says that I was an 'easy baby', and despite many delays, I was an 'easy kid', too. I pretty much kept to myself. So, in many ways, I escaped the blunt of the abuse, I think. Emotional abuse scars just as badly, though. My mom's boyfriend was physically abusive to my mother, my eldest sister, and my brother. And emotionally abusive to all of us. I don't remember him ever hitting me, but I remember fearing that he would. And to this day, some of his words echo in my head.

We never liked the man. I remember, even at eight or nine years old, resenting my mother for letting him stay. Of course, I now realize that when one is in an abusive relationship, it can seem hard to get out. But nevertheless, to this day, I harbor some of those feelings. My mom was, also, an alcoholic. She was never the angry kind. She was the 'happy' kind. It didn't make it any easier to grow up around, I don't think. Because between the jerk of a man and my mother always drunk, I don't think I ever truly saw what an adult is supposed to act like. To this day, my mom drinks religiously.

In elementary school, I maintained straight A's for the most part. I remembering crying when I got my first C. I had few friends. It's not that I didn't try, most were just put off by me. I became the butt of jokes. I was 'weird' or 'strange'. I had a few friends that I'd trade Pokemon cards with. That was enough, I guess. Upon entry to middle school, I began to slip. That was the onset of my depression.

In middle school, I was the butt of even more jokes. I learned fast that not having friends in middle school made you a social piranha. I did make one. She, however, would quickly become a bully, as well. I withdrew into myself during middle school. I didn't know how to tell anyone what she was doing, and when I tried, no one would listen, anyway. She would manipulate me so easily, though, that I'm ashamed to admit it. She'd threaten to hurt herself just to get me to do as she wanted. She held me at knife point once. She spread rumors - telling everyone that I hit her. Yeah. Me, who hates confrontation, hit her. She was actually the one hitting me, but I kept it bottled in until I began self harming in my 7th grade year.

That was, also, the year that the man who my mom had been living with hurt someone. I was a witness to the crime, and to this day see it in my head sometimes. He was arrested, and she finally dumped him. I have mixed feelings. Because what if it had been one of us? Or her? And she waited that long. Depression hit me hard. I became explosive toward my family. I guess, in many ways, I was just angry that they weren't seeing the signs. Even now, when I try to tell them, my sister will say she seemed so sweet. Yeah. They always do.

In eight grade, I finally got rid of her and moved onto another 'clique'. Shame that the school year was almost over, and high school was about to begin. That was the same year I was taken advantage of. Won't go into too much detail. The whole school heard a distorted version of the story, though. I never bothered to correct them. Perhaps I should have. But you know what they say about hindsight.

High school came. I never really found my place in high school, either. Little fish in a big pond didn't even begin to explain me. I picked up smoking. I picked up binge drinking. I became... essentially the kid everyone's parents warn them about. I got in a fight, which I won't go into much detail about, and was sent to an alternative school. I wasn't the one to hit first, but my record contained the self harm, the depression, etc. So, of course, I was the one considered 'mentally unfit' for regular school. Alternative school did not fit me. I did not fit in there. That's when depression really hit. Because I had already felt as though I didn't fit in anywhere, now I felt even more lost. I was surrounded by juvenile delinquents and the worst thing I had ever done was finish a 6 pack to myself. Transportation, also, became impossible. I pretended to be adjusted. For my family's sake. But soon, that all fell apart. My math teacher treated the entire class like dirt. That's putting it nicely. And one day, because of her, I came home and just lost it.

Soon, I dropped out. It all seemed pointless. We were at least lower middle class by this point, though. I had grown up in poverty, but without that man around, my mom was able to find her own. She was maintaining a well paying job with a card company. That company went bankrupt. And before we knew it... life goes full circle. We were in poverty again. I was attacked by dogs that same year. Everything as I knew it was falling apart. I had grown comfortable in our house, I'd grown comfortable with my life. I was still depressed, but less so. We had to leave that house. We ended up moving back into a trailer. Not even a nice trailer. But one of those trailers that no one wants to live in.

I think the major defining point was when my dog passed away. She was pretty much one of the only two close friends I had left. She and my other dog were the thin strings I was hanging off. After she passed, I lost it. I started binge eating. I mean, I would literally binge - not just overeat. I'd hoard food in my room and at night, I'd eat it all and not realize I'd done it until I was left to clean up the mess. Depression became unbearable.

We did what we could to make money. Eventually, my siblings all got sick of it. My sisters married. They got out. My brother started showing early symptoms of bipolar disorder. My mother would complain about him. Deep down, I sympathised with him. His explosive anger was hard to deal with, though. It always ended in him crying in his room, but the anger was scary. In any case, he eventually got out, too. Leaving me... hauntingly alone. I finished my education, am current in college, but I feel abandoned, almost. I feel like I'm my hamster... on a wheel. Except, this wheel isn't even spinning. At least hamsters have a spinning wheel when they're going nowhere. My wheel is broken, so it won't even spin.

My life spun out of control, and soon, I found myself giving up binging. Except then, I wasn't eating at all. Or, rather, relatively small amounts when I did. I was convinced that I could do this forever. Live off coffee and diet coke. Of course, deep down, I knew I couldn't. But it kept the depression at bay for a short while. Until it all came crashing down and I wound up more depressed than I'd ever been before. The doctors mislabel me, I think. Because I wasn't honest with them. I inadvertently lied. Besides, I'm too poor to afford the medication they tried to put me on, anyway.

It used to be that I felt relatively comfortable socially on the internet. Now, on some spaces of the web, I feel less so than in real life because of cyberbullies I had to deal with. They essentially ruined my image to friends (both real life friends and online friends). They outed me as transgender. They lied about me, distorted my words. And now, there are exactly two places I feel comfortable online: Here and another psychology forum.

Anyway. The past year has probably been the hardest year of my life. I have been through a lot, clearly. But nothing - I mean it nothing - compares to the misery (I actually want to use an h word, use your imagination) that is an eating disorder. This is literally a physical, mental, emotional, psychological nightmare. Finding help has been tough. I've tried. A lot of places push me away (no insurance) or put me off as long as they can (my previous therapist did a visit ever 2 months. yes months). I was told I can go into crisis at that place. But for someone as deep as I am, that's like a slap in the face. So, since February, I've been doing my best to get by between visits to a therapist. I've had a few appointments, most of them, they call me last minute to cancel.

I'm trying to focus on college, but it isn't easy. My mind bounces between obsessing about the eating, to worrying about all the people I've pushed away, to thinking about how lonely I am, back to the eating. I admit that I've turned to binge drinking again. And I confess that I often take Zzquil or pain killers just to get a decent night's sleep. I made an attempt last autumn. I don't speak of it often, most people don't even know. I suspect that's part of why my liver enzymes came back so high when I was at the hospital for stomach pains. They diagnosed me with gallbladder disease. That misdiagnosis is common when you don't fit the... typical image people have of someone with an eating disorder. Although, they did see gallstones that were worrying in the ultrasound, the doctor said none of them explained why my stomach would be hurting so much. Deep down, I knew why, but was afraid to say. Afraid of not being taken seriously, because no one has to date. Not even my old therapist.

And that's it, I suppose. I left some things out. I tend to do that. Memory comes and goes, to be honest. Mine was long, too. I would wager a lot of ours will be, though.

s to everyone.

[utterlyconfused]

Oh wow Bronze, your story is pretty rough. I'd leave your current therapist and find one that will work with you and not cancel last minute. Thankfully mine actually tries to get me to come every week because she's so worried about me and my restrictive eating patterns. Keep fighting and pushing on! You can make it out of this mess, and maybe things will begin to look up for you soon...

[Altered Moment]

That's a lot to read but I will read it.

Warning it is long. Might be encouraging or discouraging. I put it out there because I don't care who knows anymore and maybe it will help someone.

Depression started the summer between 6th and 7th grade. This was about the time all the kids in neighborhood were starting to use cigarettes, alcohol, and pot. I went a year without giving in to the peer pressure then gave in. I wanted to fit in and be cool. I fell in love with alcohol. I also used pot and cigarettes. I really believe I was self-medicating for the depression. It worked. Throughout High School I was able to get good grades, was popular, and played on the High School hockey team. We even won a state championship.
I went to community college with the intentions of becoming an engineer. Now I was getting more and more depressed and the drugs and alcohol were not working out as good. I was a full blown alcoholic by this point. I ended up dropping out of college and moving to Oklahoma to get into the construction trades. I got a job plumbing for a company from California. In the construction trades alcoholism and drug use is much more tolerated in the construction trades. I did very well. Became a foreman in my early 20’s. All my self esteem was tied up in my work. I was a functional alcoholic until my early 30’s, make it to work each day and did good. I still had incidents of depression but they were manageable I guess. All my energy went into work and I slept as much as I could when not working. I worked, drank, ate and slept. I ended up getting married and having a daughter. My tolerance to alcohol by this time really dropped and my drinking was out of control. I tried and tried to quit on my own. I could quit for some periods by just smoking pot. Then I discovered Meth. What an antidepressant that was. I didn’t care about drinking when I was doing meth. This went on for five years. Of course it did a lot of damage to my relationship with my wife and little girl. It turned into a vicious cycle of up and down just like bipolar. I finally got fired from a job I had been at for fourteen years. I got another job right away and lasted two weeks before they fired me. I couldn’t stay away from the stuff.
This was my bottom. With my wifes and mothers encouragement I reached out for help. At first I went to a psychiatric clinic and saw a psychologist and then a psychiatrist. I knew I had a problem with depression and I was totally honest about my alcohol and drug use. They put me of Effexor and of course recommended I go to an alcohol and drug treatment center. I agreed and went voluntarily.
I was doing very well at the treatment center. The model patient. Then after two weeks I skitzed out and had a psychotic break. I had what is called amphetamine post acute withdrawal syndrome. They took me 5150 to a mental hospital. I was out of town so they then transferred me to a mental hospital in the town I lived in. I was pissed and wanted out. I did not think anything was wrong with me. I was flying high. A full blown manic episode. They kept me for three weeks. They took my drivers license for six months and would not go back to work for a year. The episode pretty much lasted a year before my brain came back into balance. Because it lasted so long I was diagnosed bi-polar.
During this whole time I attended AA meetings. When I could drive again I was going to three meetings a day. I loved AA and was doing everything that was suggested. I have been clean and sober to this day, 18 years. This all happened in 1995 when my daughter was three. She has no memory of ever seeing me drink or drug. I was flying high and doing really well the first couple of years. I decided to try to make a change and not go back into plumbing and go back to college. That is when the depression reared its ugly head again. The pink cloud went away. I dropped out of school again and went back to plumbing.
I was able to work and keep my head above water in spite of the depression. I did very well at work. However when the depression hit I was down and out. I had moderate depression the whole time. I worked ate and slept a lot and worked on my recovery. I had a very solid foundation in AA and didn’t want to drink and use but the depression was horrible. I worked very hard at recovery and battling the depression. I went to Alanon for years. I went to Adult Children of Alcoholics for a year. Worked the steps. Sponsored an Alateen meeting for two years. I went to therapy of all different kinds for years trying to battle the depression. Always in a mild or moderate depression but having enough energy to do all these things and do good at work. Sometimes having to really force myself. I would go into three severe depressions a year and miss a week to up to three weeks of work. I was very lucky to have a boss who tolerated this. He needed me real bad because I practically ran his business in the field. I was taking and switching antidepressants this whole time.
When the housing market crashed and the economy crashed my boss closed up his business. I joined the plumbing union because they still had a lot of work but it was running out fast. I was layed off a lot and collected unemployment. Financially I started doing worse. This is when the depressions started getting worse. Probably triggered by lack of work and financial stress. They were getting more severe, coming more frequently and lasting longer. I still kept battling by taking meds switching meds going to group therapy individual counseling Alanon and on and on.
At one point I was layed off from the union for two years and collected unemployment for two years. I spent all that time where I grew up in Michigan and did good the first year. The second year I had horrible long lasting depression especially in the winter. I finally got called back to work for a very good job in California. I had a ton of anxiety but bulled my way through it. I did very well at work. Got awards. The first six months that is. Then the depression hit again. In one year I missed almost three months of work due to depression. In the real world a company just cannot put up with that and they let me go. Being in a union I could get called out to other jobs. I took a call for another job and lasted one day. The next morning sitting in the parking lot at work I had a panick attack and a breakdown. I just couldn’t hang.
My psychiatrist who was super stingy about disability put me on it for two weeks. I was lucky he gave me that although I needed it for much longer. I was able to qualify for unemployment again but was very disabled. My family talked me into coming back to Michigan so I could be closer to them and have their support. My brother talked me into a new treatment called TMS, transcranial magnetic stimulation. I did one hour sessions three days a week for six weeks. They shoot strong magnetic pulses through your brain at a very specific spot. It didn’t do jack. That winter I had my worse depression ever. Pretty much stayed in bed for six months at my parents house. Was suicidal everyday. Had paranoid delusions. One day I just snapped out of like a switch went off. I don’t think it was due to meds or anything else. The cycle had run its course and I snapped out of it. I own a small place in Michigan on a river and I was able to do a lot of work on it and do a lot of fishing and felt really good. Then around October it came again. It is now Feburary and I have been in and out since. Not near as bad as last year but bad enough. Last year when I was in that very bad long lasting one I had given up all hope. I just wanted to die. Very suicidal all the time. I had given up hope that anything would help this depression. I had tried everything.
Now this year it has come back again. I have regained some sense of hope but it is hard. I am tired. I have tried everything. I have been forcing myself to do things my whole life and I don’t want to force myself to do things. I want to want to do things.
I have applied for social security disablility. I just don’t think I can work anymore, especially in plumbing. You can’t miss three to six months a year of work and hold job. I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. I was praying to God every night that I would just wake up dead. Somehow I have regained some sense of hope. I have some good days. I am at my parents at 50 years of age and in very bad shape financially. I have still managed to hold on to my house here on the river. I hope and pray they will give me disability. It is a process that takes forever. I don’t know if this story will help anyone or not. Maybe you can at least relate. I am very proud that I have managed to stay clean and sober for 18 years. I did have a few slips on pot when I was very desperate to try anything as an antidepressant. It did not work for me so I stopped. Many in AA would say I relapsed and have to change my sobriety date but I don’t give a ****. In my heart I know I was trying it for a legitimate medical use and I am holding on to my 18 years. The sobriety part is encouraging, the depression part not so much. Depression is a very serious debilitating disease. Many many people just don’t get it. They can’t understand unless they really try to educate themselves. I am very lucky to have a very supportive and understanding family. I would be homeless otherwise. I am putting this out there because I don’t care who knows anymore and it might help someone. With the depression there are ups and downs and currently I am back in fighting mode. I don’t believe it will ever go away but I have to learn to live with it and manage it. It is not easy. I am very spiritual and truly believe there is much more to the story than we perceive.
__________________

[mikeysmom322]

I am a only child and my father who I was very close to died suddenly when I was 13. I was devastated. My mom has 8 brothers and sisters and the 2 that live in NY where I grew up had children my age. We grew up like brothers and sisters but after my father died I distanced myself and felt angry and very different from them. They no longer understood me and never realized the pain I couldn't even talk about. I moved to Florida at 17 and lived with my boyfriend, who became my husband. It was a very verbally abusive relationship and it took me a long time to get my confidence back. Well I started to take adhd meds for energy and did not realize what they were doing to me. After moving back to NY I started hearing whispers in my head of people wanting to kill me. I feared for my life. I see a psychologist and was put on meds Klonopin 2mg 4x a day and Latuda. I still feel weird things in my body and feel voices or people. They lie to me and chip away at me. After 5 years of this I am very angry and I guess depressed. I need more help then what im getting. I don't take my anger out on anyone I just wait for it to pass but it is a overwhelming feeling.