Forums » Smalltalk » Mental Health

Hi there guys,
i'm not sure if this is the right place but i've noticed a few people with similar topics through the pages.

I've noticed that one way or another so many people who i've befriended through roleplay, or even come across over the years online, has in one way or another been affected by mental health issues. I feel safe in this community, have found myself surrounded by a genuinely kind and caring group of friends that i'm so grateful for, and for once in my life don't feel judged.

Of course my friends and family in the real world are there for me, but I find it impossible talking to them....especially when you get that sympathetic smile and silence in return. Not that it is their fault, nobody trains you how to deal with somebody who suffers a roller-coaster of emotions on a daily basis, rapid cycling mood swings, filled with self hatred, cannot leave the house without panic attacks, is negative and paranoid believing that everything is their fault, has suicidal tendencies and that all important self destruct button...i'm babbling now.

Below I will write about my current situation, experiences with the NHS and what help is being given to me, in hopes that some of you will feel comfortable enough sharing your own experiences, give advice, and just in general de-stigmatize the horror that is mental health.


So I suffer from; PTSD, PCOS, Borderline Personality Disorder, and a number of other things that we shall not mention.

For over ten years I have been desperately seeking help, have always known that something was wrong with me. After persistently going to to doctors, begging to be seen and taken seriously, I was simply dismissed and given a cocktail of anti-depressants with the promise that it'll pass despite the fact that I have a strong family history of bi-polar and such. Only at the beginning of this year did I eventually get seen by a psychiatrist, counselor, and the crisis mental health team, what brought this sudden intervention on you ask? A severe meltdown that ended with an overdose on citalopram, a ridiculous amount of pills that should never have been entrusted to me, especially when they themselves were only allowed as a highest dose of 50mg due to their strength and side effects.

Let me take this moment to say that I do not in any way, shape or form condone suicide or self harm, it is in no way a healthy release and it will leave those around you in a world of pain and suffering, blaming themselves that they did not 'help' you. It was never planned, I have lost two close friends and a member of family to the act, and in truth I don't remember how it happened; it was not a dramatic statement or gesture because I felt that I was not good enough for this world, not a conscious decision, I just snapped

So here I sit typing this out, having been off work for a year and finally getting the 'right' help which will properly begin next week after struggling and waiting so long. Do I feel that I have a promising future? Probably not, I know that I will always struggle one way or another, I fear that I will never be able to function in society, but at least being diagnosed, especially with BPD, explains a lot to me about why I always struggled to fit in, why I was never able to keep a job for longer than a year at a time, that I have something wrong with me and I am not a horrible person.


Understand that I have skipped a lot of fine details out, it'd be a ridiculously long read if I hadn't summarized it, but I feel that sharing my 'traumatic' childhood and other painful details would just confuse the main reason for this topic. Also, i'm not here for sympathy or attention, that defeats the purpose. I only hope that me being open about my struggle that other people will feel confidence to share their own, and maybe we can help one another understand the mental health issues that we live with on a daily basis.

Thank you for taking the time to read this,
R

I have a diagnosis list the length of the alphabet, including (though certainly not limited to) ADHD/C, borderline personality, intermittent explosive disorder, generalized anxiety, and ptsd.

When I was 15 I was hospitalized for suicidal and homicidal thoughts/actions (the latter of which was a nasty rumor started by a girl at my school). I spent a total of 8 weeks in the hospital, 4 in-patient, and 4 out-patient. I was hospitalized after being relentlessly tortured throughout my educational career. I was always the odd-kid-out because of my ADHD and the fact that my dad didn't believe I had it (he thought I was just a bad kid) so I wasn't properly medicated and thus had a hard time with paying attention and impulse control. Combine the bullying from my peers with heavy physical and emotional abuse from the age of 6 and a nasty divorce between my parents when I was 7 and it was a cocktail recipe for disaster.

While I was in the hospital I was misdiagnosed, and after I was released I continued to be misdiagnosed. My mother did all this online research and always met with the psychiatrists and therapists before I did. I ended up being diagnosed with bipolar and was told that I didn't have ADHD (something I was diagnosed with at 4 years old). I went through several different medications, none of which worked, until I was 18 when I refused to take any more medications. I had been saying they didn't work for years (something my mother still vehemently denies to this day) and that they didn't help me at all.

I went to a new psychiatrist and therapist when I was 19 and didn't tell anyone - I was extremely paranoid that my family (my mother in particular) had been giving them pre-existing notions on my condition and therefor they were biased by the time I actually met with them. When I sat down and explained everything to the new one, however, she looked at me like I had 4 heads and said she wasn't sure how I had ever been diagnosed with bipolar because it was clear as day to her that I didn't have it.

I've been on several different types of ADHD meds, and they all worked through the side-effects ended up causing me to change meds. The last one I was one (which I can't remember the name of for the life of me) was great, worked like a charm and the side-effects were nearly non-existent. I had always known that ADHD meds don't work on someone who doesn't have it, and my new therapist confirmed that. She also informed me that BPD when in combination with ADHD will sometimes appear as bipolar, especially to a therapist who has been given reason to believe that it's bipolar. I spent a lot of time with my therapist, she connected me with several support groups in the area I was living in and correctly diagnosed my alphabet worth of issues.

Everything she told me was later reinforced by a new therapist that I saw when I moved away from that area when I was 20. The new one didn't connect me with support groups like the last one, but I believe that was simply due to a lack of them in that area.

Two years ago I suffered the worst trauma of my life. I lost a lot of things as a result, including my sense of self-worth and my sense safety (namely my ability to protect myself), and as a result I'm sometimes come off distant or stand-offish, and I get overwhelmed in social situations easily, especially in the face of people I don't know.

Please keep in mind that everything above is shortened, generalized, and sugar-coated. My story is far darker and grimmer than this, but I don't honestly believe this is the forum to discuss things in depth or at length. I'm not looking for pity, sympathy, or anything of or relating to the two, and I'm not looking to discuss my life in detail.

I'm pretty open about my struggles with mental health - it's certainly not something I generally talk about in every dya conversation but if the topic is brought up (or I'm asked questions) I don't hide anything. I don't see a point, and I don't want to feed the stigma. Because despite my alphabet of issues I am currently completely unmedicated with a healthy, happy, beautiful 5 year old daughter, a fabulous doggo (who manages to double as a support animal without there having been an intention of him being one, animals are great man), and a fiance who adores me. We have a decent house in a decent area and manage to make ends meet - and we're slowly getting better. Some days are harder than others, and I'm fortunate that my fiance notices - he'll ask if I'm ok, if I want to talk, if anythings wrong or if I'm just having "one of those days" and he'll sit with me, play games with me, and try to cheer me up.

My friends know this already, but I think everyone should know: I am a safe space, and if you ever need to talk to someone (even if its just to vent about something) I'll always listen, and you don't ever have to apologize to me. I like to think that struggles like these make more compassionate people - a silver lining of sorts.

Keep your head up beautifuls, we're all in this race together.

Well I don't have much wrong other than depression and possible ADHD. I'm still Young though so who knows what I could end up diagnosed with.

Well when I was maybe four or younger I was actually a happy child. When I turned five and entered school my mental health started to decline. I was bullied in school but, who hasn't been at some point in their life? It seemed to be what made me go downhill so fast. Though thats what I think theres more than likely other factors as well. I started blaming my self for ridiculous things! An example would be my parents divorce. I was convinced that if I hadn't been born they would still be together. Later I learned that my father was actually a huge jerk. I never knew that as he always made himself appear as the fun loving father figure. He was a huge factor in my depression as he often disappointed me one way or another. Thirteen years down the road a lots happened. My depression never wavered in fact, it got worse. Finally after a huge mental breakdown I let my mother find me help. I've been on a few different anti-depressants and I'm probably going to get another one. I refuse to take more than two medications at once so I sometimes have to fight about that. Anyway thats more whats happening now. Before that I attempted to overdose.... On my anti-depressants. That gave everyone I knew a real scare and may have made the psychiatrist take me more seriously. It's pretty sad in a way really. This years been a bad year for me and I'm hoping it will pass. I can only hope that my future holds something brighter than this.

Heh... Oops I kinda started ranting. Well um sorry for taking up space.... Thank you if you read this.

Thank you for being so honest Cami, i'm so sorry to hear that you too have been misdiagnosed and have went through so much from such a young age. Like yourself I have been lucky to find a man who is patient and understanding, my rock. I do believe that a stable relationship most definitely is a necessity with BPD whether it's a friend or a partner, either that or a pet who you can give unconditional love to.

I am shocked and disappointed though that the sheer lack of understanding as a whole with mental health is the main issue, so many go unsupported, while far too many of them are either brushed aside or ignored altogether. I'm glad to hear that you are in a safe place, and if you don't mind i'll probably be messaging you sometime soon in regards to your borderline personality disorder as it's new to me and i'm struggling with the diagnosis.

Stay safe lovely.

Again thank you for being so brutally honest about your experiences, I suppose it's a plus that you're finally being taken seriously but at the same time disgusting that it took such extreme measures for the help to come. I'm far from a professional, but i'm more than happy to be that unbiased shoulder if you ever need a rant or just general chitchat, apparently somebody who has been through similar experiences and doesn't know you from Adam tends to be easier to talk to rather than a best friend or health service provider.

Keep your chin up hun, six months ago I didn't believe there was a silver lining but trust me when I say it WILL come and things do get better.

@silverseas Don't ever apologize for talking about your story, that's like apologizing for being yourself and you're probably a wonderful individual. Like you my parents, specifically my father, was a huge source of disappointment in my life. It sucks when someone you look up to and idolize turns out to be the exact opposite of what you thought they were. It was a huge wake up call for me, and it caused me to distrust a lot of people - something I still deal with. But it does get better, life does get easier. I know it doesn't always seem like it, but something my partner taught me was to always look for something good - no matter how small or insignificant it may seem.

In August I lost my job. It was a hard blow for me because I was trying so hard. I worked 16 hour days 6 days a week, didn't sleep much, and was just generally at odds with everyone because I was so stressed out. I lost the job and I actually feel better for it. I'm not as stressed and I get to spend more time with my daughter. It's nice actually.

@BobbinK definitely hit me up. The support group I was part of was honestly one of the biggest helps for me when coming to terms with my diagnosis. I learned a lot from people of all ages from all walks of life, and it was honestly the best thing in the world to know that I'm not as alone as I feel sometimes.

And yes, my fiance is the biggest help and my biggest source of support. But I also think RP in general, not just furc, has been a huge source of firnedships and support for me. Even when I disappear for periods I can always come back and trust that my friends will still be here and act like I never left.

It's awesome to have such a great community.

I suffer from anxiety and depression, have always been unmedicated mostly due to the fact that I can't afford the insurance, let alone the medication themselves (Thanks, capitalist America.) Mental health is something I have struggled with through my life. When in school, I had no drive to actually work, but learning was a great outlet, talk about meeting a head with depression and anxiety.

My father's side of the family is where this stems from. My cousins and I all deal with different issues, along my dear aunt who was recently hospitalized because of her medical illness crippling her and giving her such poor eating habits that it lead to her getting type 2 diabetes (also runs in the family from hers and my father's mother) and was found seizing on the floor because she went DKA. A lot of that has to do with her husband shutting people out and saying she was "fine."

I only ever saw a school therapist in high school. This was in the mid to late 2000s. The counselor pushed for meetings with my parents, who often declined. She was certified, surprising for a school therapist, but I guess she was there for kids like me whose parents refused was anything wrong with their kids. I was diagnosed then. I also picked up heavily on online communities back then, creating my network of safe people there. It helped a lot.

Since then, I cope the best way I can. Some days are harder than others. My birth control has made my anxiety worse, but not much I can do there.

And to those who are saying "I just have..." Don't invalidate yourself. Don't invalidate your struggles. That's the worst thing you could do. Your needs are important, just like everyone elses'.

I'm not going to lie: I'm extremely apologetic because of my own anxieties, so I do have to well, apologize beforehand if I do have a lot of sorry's laced in here somewhere. It's something I'm working on, but a horrible habit.

Anyway. I have Borderline Personality Disorder and Major Depressive Disorder (current diagnosis) Asperger's Syndrome (childhood diagnosis that stuck), and PCOS (which I don't think is a mental illness, but definitely exacerbates the diagnoses I do have.) It's been a long road of misdiagnoses from family, a neglectful family in general, hating to take medication because it didn't make me look 'normal', and my own shortcomings that I do indeed recognize as my own faults and not anything else.

Let's begin, shall we?

The first time I was diagnosed was when I was.... 7? 8? I was really young when my mother took me to a hospital and let me play with the other children, only to realize with distraught confusion (accompanied with a crying temper tantrum) that I was being left there to be examined. I think I was initially diagnosed with Oppositional Defiance Disorder and some ADHD (the latter being a misdiagnosis, I believe) around that time. Since that time, I had periods of normalcy followed by angered and very violent outbursts that led to me transferring schools and having to undergo therapy during my early adolescence. I also didn't think that taking medication was seen as "normal," so I avoided it at all costs even though it was important for me to take them.

My mother, despite meaning well, had her own issues with depression and always tended to leave me alone or with my grandmother for long periods of time. Being ostracized by my peers with very few friends didn't help as well (and I swear to you before I transferred schools I didn't know what the concept of a friend really was to a child's standards). The final straw for my mother was actually trying to... well, kill her at 13-14 years old. My mother was a standoffish sort of woman and because of her behavior I thought she never wanted me to be born. Learning that I wasn't planned didn't help anything; to this day I still consider myself her little failure.

Anyway, that's when she handed me over to DHR custody and my life of being hospitalized often began. Suicide attempts were constant, and I always acted out and fought a lot during hospitalization. I only had two friends during that time to help me through it, otherwise I think I would've gone even more mad than usual. Here was where I was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome during my hospital stays.

Around 18, even my mom didn't want me back out of fear and I was about to age out of DHR, so I was finally sent to what my mother always used to threaten to take me to if I acted out: a group home. My later years were spent in two group homes, where I finally got some of the help I needed and a proper diagnosis. However, one particular hinderance that didn't help me and still hangs onto my soul to this day was my "best friend" at the time dumping me over her cat running away (and came back a while later, so yeah), complete with her calling me a heartless vulgar term for a female dog goes here. Time, research, reflection, and one more shot recently with being her friend showed me she was immature, a manipulative liar, and a toxic person to be around. She never really cared for me or my life unless I also gave her tons of attention and fawned over her and lied whenever I shared information about myself so she could get closer to me (Ex. "Oh, you're a witch? Well, I can see ghosts of my pet in my house" then later on saying she never said that and was a born-again Christian; "Oh, so you have BPD? I have that too, and all of these other mental illnesses," yet she was never realy diagnosed with that by a professional and couldn't provide proof of this. She always seemed to lie to make herself and her life look better and worse than me and my life by comparison) And when told the truth about herself and her actions in an adult manner, she always treated it as "drama" she didn't want to be a part of. She was an attention seeker that drained the life and spirit out of me, yet left her impression because I trusted her too much and she stabbed me in the back. I don't really trust people in the long term anymore because of her. If someone I considered a sister once could be so cold and heartless to me, then anyone trying to be my friend is capable of that, you know? (Also, you can tell I'm still coping with this by how long this paragraph is.)

Nowadays, I have no friends because my oldest friend left me; he argued with my boyfriend and thought his words equalled my words, so he blocked me without even talking to me first to get my side of things. But to make up for that, I have a loving boyfriend and someone I'm seeing that's too sweet for words (I'm polyamorous), and a decent life living on my own and pursing my dreams of having my own series published, even if it's bit by bit. I really can't complain anymore because in society's eyes, I am the "normal" person I always wanted to be as a kid. However, I know that I'm not. I'm starting to come to terms with that and actively seeking the help that I needed a long time ago, even if it's a slow process hindered by depression-induced laziness.

Dear gods, the rambling here is real. But I guess what I'm trying to say is, anyone has a chance to live a happy life, even with issues like mine. I'm really not a scary person, no matter how dark my story may seem, and this is just the condensed version. I still have hopes and dreams, and I love to be generous and kind to others when I can. I think that's the one thing I've always been told to curb for my own sake: I'm too nice and initially trusting for my own good. But it's worth it if I've made some sort of good impact on someone's life. And I hope this long, long story has helped someone in the long run as well.

Hey guys, I just want to say how proud I am of all of you for coming forward like this. This really is a great community, one that promotes a lot of the Safe Place attitude.

I'd like to toss out there this little nugget, in case y'all would ever like a place a little more purpose-oriented.

Again, I'm proud of all of you. Each of you inspires me. I am SO very glad you're still here and with us.