[Michael W. Harris]

I am sixty-two in October. The mental health staff at this VA do not know how to deal with dissociative disorders.

I will never know my alters. That is like never knowing a part of your life. I will never know how they interacted with my Mom and Dad. I will never know if they were abused worse than me. I will never recover the lost memories.

This makes me extremely sad. It also frustrates me horribly.

[Skeezyks]

Well... I'm 69. I began actively rattling around the mental health system where I live when I was around age 50. (Prior to that I had managed to keep the cork in the bottle, so to speak. It wasn't pretty. But I did it.)

My experience has been that, at least by the time one reaches the age of 50 (possibly sooner I have no way of knowing), one is simply excess baggage on the mental health railroad, so to speak. I have a pdoc. But after 19 years I still don't have a diagnosis. (I've given up caring at this point.) My pdoc (whom I actually like by the way) will give me pretty-much any psych med I want. If I wanted to I could be on a whole laundry list of 'em. I choose not to go that route. I've also seen a number of therapists for brief periods. They ranged from mediocre to dreadful! (Of course they were all glad to take my money.)

I also have many questions with regard to what happened with me. Somehow... I went off the rails, so to speak, very early in life. And in the process I did more damage to more innocent lives than I care to reflect on. But how or why I know I'll never know. It makes me sad. In fact it has made me suicidal. But that's just the way it is for me. I feel your pain...

[TheDragon]

https://www.amazon.com/Coping-Trauma.../dp/B00O4RPUPU

[Michael W. Harris]

Originally Posted by Skeezyks

Well... I'm 69. I began actively rattling around the mental health system where I live when I was around age 50. (Prior to that I had managed to keep the cork in the bottle, so to speak. It wasn't pretty. But I did it.)

My experience has been that, at least by the time one reaches the age of 50 (possibly sooner I have no way of knowing), one is simply excess baggage on the mental health railroad, so to speak. I have a pdoc. But after 19 years I still don't have a diagnosis. (I've given up caring at this point.) My pdoc (whom I actually like by the way) will give me pretty-much any psych med I want. If I wanted to I could be on a whole laundry list of 'em. I choose not to go that route. I've also seen a number of therapists for brief periods. They ranged from mediocre to dreadful! (Of course they were all glad to take my money.)

I also have many questions with regard to what happened with me. Somehow... I went off the rails, so to speak, very early in life. And in the process I did more damage to more innocent lives than I care to reflect on. But how or why I know I'll never know. It makes me sad. In fact it has made me suicidal. But that's just the way it is for me. I feel your pain...

I did not deliberately damage people but my dysfunction, both social and mental, very likely hurt the women in my life. Also I am sure my dissociative disorder confused the hell out of my Dad but he had no parenting skills and never communicated with me anyway. After studying the mental illness I realized that my Mom had it. She had been diagnosed as schizophrenic when I was about twelve. She probably just had a breakdown.

Sorry to hear....just about 50 and still screwed up here. After 50 years am I expecting better? Ha ha ha ha.

I got a feeling by the time I get "whole"...I'll be dead the next day if lucky.

Them memories and Others are buried for a reason....won't poke that sleeping bear here. Make money, eat pizza, drink wine and have a good time.

[Michael W. Harris]

If I had had someone who cared about me, I would still be working even with my mental problems. But when I had my break down in 2001 and got caught in the Florida legal system on alcohol related charges it destroyed any chance for me. I moved to Lake City, Florida in 2005 thinking that I could get mental health treatment at this VA and get back to some type of work. It did not happen. The mental health staff would not talk to me about dissociative disorders and because of that I never felt safe again.

Now I am back here to die. I will file for early social security in October and wait to die.