Is There Anybody Out There?

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pudgypidgey
Posts: 1
Joined: Thu Jul 27, 2017 4:38 pm
Location: New York

Is There Anybody Out There?

Postby pudgypidgey » Thu Jul 27, 2017 7:30 pm

I don't know if I'm ready to let it all go like this...I feel embarrassed to see it all laid out, I guess.

My name is Colleen. I am 22 years old and was born and raised in upstate NY. Growing up, there was always a lot of screaming, hysterics, crying, door slamming, mean words that stick with me to this day, and general mayhem. My father has always been an extreme perfectionist, which I inherited. To give you an idea: when my oldest sister (I am the youngest of 3 girls) was 5-6, she got like a 99 on an assignment. She showed our father and he, right in front of her eyes, ripped the paper up and said, "Why isn't it 100?"

I feel like the only way to be worthy to him, to earn his praise and approval, is just that: nothing less than perfect. So I had to be the golden child. The best at everything, the smartest, loved, etc. I am rather blessed genetically, and I hate saying it because I hate sounding vain...but I am indeed very intelligent, attractive, and talented at many things. I can't help that. It has earned the great resentment of that very same older sister, who was born with mild cerebral palsy and a couple other health issues - she has undergone many painful surgeries, most of which were when she was a child. She's had it tough, but she takes her anger out on everyone else, especially my mother. She regularly screams at her, insults her, blames her for everything, etc...and she has slapped my mother, and has thrown a chair at her. It breaks my heart, it really does. My mother is the most generous and loving woman in the world, but she is too passive, too submissive, and lets everyone walk over her. She never disciplined us enough and when my sister or father go on a rampage, she just...sits there. No response, not even to defend me or my other sister. That's just how it is.

My middle sister has Aspergers, and has horrid social anxiety. Other than online people she plays MMO's with, I am her only friend. She has meltdowns in which she cries and cries hysterically, and NOTHING can get through to her. The only way I can calm her is just hugging her. No words, just let her cry it out and hold her. Usually these episodes are egged on by the persistent bullying from my eldest sister. While I am glad I can calm her, I fear for her because she is utterly dependent on my parents and cannot function autonomously. It's always been this way. I am the youngest, but I've always been mature for my age, and I had to "grow up" so as to defend my sister from the other kids (they were awful to her) and to guide her. So, even though I am the youngest, the family dynamic is quite the contrary.

My father has a furious temper and when he gets angry, god help us. He insults and kicks things around; he has on several occasions gathered our belongings in trash bags and thrown them on the lawn. I am, and have always been, extremely sensitive, and some of those insults still linger in the back of my mind - for example, when I was 6 and he said that our house was a "moron factory." Yes, I have "typical middle-class white girl daddy issues." I hate being that sort of stereotype, but goddamned it if it isn't true.

As you can easily gather, I've always performed excellently academically. I received numerous awards, and skipped a year of college because I had taken 6 AP classes, giving me ~45 college credits before high school graduation. I have a deep love for animals and nature, and a passionate heart for poetry. I am most definitely what people call a bleeding heart. So, I earned my B.S. in Zoology, magna cum laude, when I was 20, with a minor in Creative Writing. College wasn't that fun for me...I didn't have many friends and my studies always came first. I was a research assistant and did a couple independent studies; I am a co-author on a published scientific paper. I guess I did accomplish a lot, but at what cost? Yeah, on the outside I look like this pretty, smart girl with a lot going for her. On the inside I am nothing less than a fiery trainwreck. I swear, I don't know how I held up appearances for so long. Because let me tell you, starting when I was 19 (my last 2 semesters), I started burning, burning, burning until everything around me - and within me - was dead ashes.

Going into my mental health history to preface: I recall, rather vividly, feelings of emptiness, hopelessness, and overall depression beginning when I was 9 years old. Emotions were not something that was ever discussed in my family. I've always been shy, introverted and reticent, though I can be social just fine in short spurts (it's pretty draining...I'm sure you understand). So, such thoughts and feelings were left to fester inside of me as I attempted to bury them beneath good grades and plastic smiles. I started cutting when I was 14-15. I blame myself for everything and anything that goes wrong, even though rationally I know it's not my fault. The self-harming wasn't much at first; small enough that "the cat did it" or "it got caught on something" was fine enough if I diverted the subject quickly. So no one really noticed, and it got progressively worse. I don't remember the specifics, but when I was 17 my best friend somehow convinced me to talk to one of the school counselors. At that point I had been in a relationship for almost 2 years, but after the first year it became verbally and physically abusive. That was a big part of it. Anyway, I revealed just enough to the counselor that she called my parents, I went to the doctor, was given some antidepressants and that was it. Soon afterward, I grew the balls to stand up for myself and break up with my boyfriend. It was NOT pretty...he had cheated on me, still abusive, and he told me that he "wouldn't care if I died."

So, I swallowed my bottle of pills. All that happened was that I got sick. Got up and went to school the next day like it was nothing. Nobody knew, and what did it matter anyway. A few months later I drank some bleach but jesus christ it was painful and I stopped partway through it; it wasn't worth it to me. No one knew about that either. So that's 2 attempts before I graduated high school.
My first semester of college was good. I did make friends, I enjoyed my classes, and I did well. One of my close friends was a good listener, very supportive and understanding. I would talk with him a lot. I trusted him. We were in his dorm room, and he was getting a bit...touchy, and joking about sexual stuff. Well, I said no, that would be a bad idea, etc. Then it got more serious. He wasn't joking anymore. Neither was I. I kept saying no, repeatedly, and he let it go for a bit...while he got out a bottle of wine. (Btw, he was an RA and I was still 17). Down goes half the bottle, yes I kept saying no, but I will sum it up like this: it hurt. I'm a petite girl, 5'3" and 95-105lb, and he is really big. I didn't have a chance of overpowering him.
It hurt.
And I told no one. For years.

I finished the next semester and got my Associates Degree. I transferred to a 4-year college to get my Bachelors. First year there (2013-2014) went just dandy. Loved my classes, except for physics, was social and amiable enough, Deans List, yada yada. Keep in mind, all the while, my self-harming was still a worsening issue. Long sleeves worked fine, apparently.
Fall 2014...that's when I started to crash. I've been seeing a psychiatrist since 2013 and it's like every month or two it's just another pill. Pill after pill; a pointless goose chase. He has diagnosed me with major depression, anxiety, OCPD (obsessive compulsive personality disorder), and Bipolar Disorder. So these were some heavy duty psych meds...I've been on and off well over a dozen medications and it's really f***** with me, especially in the last 2 years - but we'll get to that.
Anyway, so Fall 2014: it started off okay I guess. The previous semester, I met a guy...he was my neighbor in the dorm. According to his friends he had a crush on me all semester, but I focused on my studies and was oblivious until the end of the semester, when his friend told me. Truth be told, I did have a crush on him too. We started dating soon afterwards and I had never in my life had such strong feelings for someone. I felt so much for him that I didn't think my heart could contain it. I truly loved him, and he felt the same for me. It was wonderful. So for the Fall semester, I moved off-campus with him and a few of his friends. He was in a rough patch himself with depression, and I tried to help him as much as I could, I really did. But I felt helpless. He tried to help me too, but we could not fix each other, even with love. Depression is a hideous beast. He had his own struggles and I was drowning. It wasn't his fault. I think my downward spiral would have happened regardless. But I got worse and worse, I had started smoking cigarettes just so I could burn myself with them and something about the slow suicide promised by the smoke was seductive. He had already been smoking for 2 years, and I can't say that it didn't influence me, but don't blame him; he never pressured me and when I started he said to me, "You're an adult and I can't make your decisions for you." He did say some things against it but I was an adult, I did what I wanted. Besides, he was being a hypocrite, right? Whatever, I was 19 and stupid. It is what it is.
It got so bad that I started skipping classes, stopped taking care of myself, I stopped caring about myself (if I even did before). I cared deeply for him, and wanted to help him, but I couldn't. It hurt, but I simply wasn't able to. Right after the semester ended, in December 2014, I tried to kill myself again. In my mind, it was an absolute certainty that I wouldn't make it to 20. To my disappointment, I was on the cusp. I swallowed so many pills...you see, I had stockpiled all those meds. I'm kind of a hoarder. So I swallowed gobs of pills and drank a LOT of alcohol. Lo and behold, all it did was cause me to pass out for most of the following day. I must have an iron gut or something. My boyfriend asked me if I was trying to kill myself and I lied and said no, and that if I was then I would have done better. I felt like a failure. During the semester I stole a pack of those small razor blades from one of the science labs, and my wrists were all the bloodied evidence needed. Huge gashes, cigarette burns old and new, scars in the process of healing. I am allergic to almost all types of antibiotic ointments as well as the adhesive used in bandaids, so the healing was even longer and more painful for me. If I did try to use that first aid stuff, it gave me horrible itchy rashes on the areas, and itching made it all so much worse! So ugly.
But it still wasn't as ugly as I felt inside.
I made President's List that semester.

Something deep within me was still breathing...the faintest flicker of hope. The quietest echo, that voice forcing my heart to continue beating however much I wished otherwise. It kept my weak lungs going in and out, inhale and exhale...I knew that if I kept going like this, if I didn't do something, then I would be dead. And I thought of my boyfriend, and how much I loved him, and how depressed he was (he never got to the point of self-harm or suicidal tendencies, though). I realized that I could not help him unless I helped myself. Hell, I couldn't do anything for him unless I was at least alive. And I thought of how my death would affect him. I couldn't bear to hurt him so. I guess...I guess I would say I wanted to get better for love.
So instead of going back to school that semester, I went to the hospital. It was devastating. I felt like such a f*** up, such a failure, that I had let this get in the way of my academics. That I wasn't even good enough to successfully end my life. I felt like a failure for everything, especially existing at all.
The hospital was hell. I hated it, I despised it, I loathed it. Curiously, during my stay, after I got my phone privileges, I would text my boyfriend and would receive no answer. Obviously I needed his support. God, that's when I needed him the most!
I was only in there for a month, and a week after I got out he said he needed to talk to me.
You guessed it: he broke up with me.
When I needed him? He ghosted me. He left me. And he KNEW that's when I needed him. What the hell kind of person does that? Oh my god, it hurt so much. I am crying right now as I type this. I loved him with all my heart and he does that to me? Two months after he told me he loved me on Valentine's Day? Love does not just dissipate like that. I was dumbfounded, confused, screwed up. He broke my heart.
No - he crushed it.
Then, a couple weeks later, he said he needed to talk to me. Again. So I went, and I did. I told him...I told him that whatever I feel, whatever I'm thinking of, if I had to choose a thousand lifetimes: it's always him; I would always choose him. It's true.
He told me that he had been rash and had made a mistake. (Damn right he did...)
So, we got back together, and things were good. We had a fun summer, even though I took a couple summer classes to catch up (organic chemistry, fun). He...well, he got bad too by the end of the semester. Turns out he had stopped going to classes entirely in November, and didn't even take his finals. As a result, he was "expelled" or however they do it. (Side note: he is 2.5yrs older than me but changed his major a few times, slacked off, then this - so he was a 22 year old junior when I was a 19-20yr old senior). I went back to school Fall 2015 and graduated in December 2015. He was loving and supportive all throughout. Since he wasn't in school, he worked at a pizza place instead. But he spent the night with me once a week and I really enjoyed the semester, and although my mental state wasn't exactly good, I was functional.
I hate being home. I love my family members, but I can't stand being home. Too many bad memories, too much tension, too much anxiety. So I moved in with my boyfriend and his family, bless their generosity. I applied to over a dozen jobs. I drove to the places in person, resume in hand. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do - continue my education? If so, what? I thought about getting a 2 year vet tech degree. Thought about grad school, but wasn't sure what I would study and for what purpose. I didn't know what I was doing or what I wanted to do. I was so lost. My whole life, I had been defined as "good student." That's all I knew how to be. That was my identity. So what now? Who am I? Cue existential crisis.
No luck on the job front. I applied to places in his town - student loans were coming up. I needed something. Sure, I got a job in early 2016...as a cashier in a grocery store. I felt like shit about it. I hated it, people treated me like crap, like they were above me, and always assumed I was in high school. Then they would get offended or not believe me when I told them that I was 21 and had a Bachelors. It was embarrassing and so, so boring. I need mental stimulation. I felt like that job was beneath me and I was meant for something much more.
After a couple months, guess what. My boyfriend broke up with me, again. The day before our 2 year anniversary, which is also the day before his birthday. I already had gifts for both. I still gave them to him. The way he "broke up" with me was...cowardly (as was ghosting me in the f****** HOSPITAL). He had been acting very distant and aloof for a while. He stopped kissing me, or being affectionate at all really. He wouldn't talk about it, but in my heart I knew. I knew. I'm the one who brought it up. I said, "You don't love me anymore, and I know it." His eye contact and silence said it all.
My god, I didn't know such pain was possible. I didn't know how much my heart could take. It was, and remains, the most emotionally painful experience of my life. I have NEVER cried like that in my life - it was more like primal, instinctive wails of pure anguish. My entire body collapsed in on itself.

He never explicitly told me to leave. I had a job there, and I hated being home. So...I stayed. (Oh, and I still loved him to death). It was incredibly awkward and painful. I knew and felt that he didn't want me around (he later confirmed this). I felt unwanted, disrespected, unloved, miserable, exhausted, confused, rejected, etc. But I stayed. Every day it hurt, and I stayed. I always chose him. A thousand lifetimes, always him.
I lasted at that crappy job until the end of 2016, when I just couldn't take it anymore. And that's when I finally put my foot down and made him talk. When I would say I wanted to talk to him in the past, he would say, "tomorrow," but then tomorrow he would be too tired, and so on...Well, this time I didn't take that excuse. I said, "No." I think he could see it in my eyes. For the past few months I was totally confused. We weren't "together" but we would do somewhat couple-stuff sometimes? I don't know. We were intimate, and it did grow closer toward the end of the year...So I needed to know, once and for all: do you want to be with me? And I told him to look me in the eyes, straight in the eyes, and tell me. He said yes.
He's...well, to me, he's an enigma. When he broke up with me earlier that year he left NO explanation, no closure, nothing. It drove me absolutely insane. I drove myself mad thinking, constantly thinking, of every little thing that had possibly gone wrong; trying to piece together events and causes. I'm a science major, I need to analyze and know things. It drove me insane...doesn't help that throughout the year my pdoc was throwing some concerning drugs my way: Valium (for sleep), Adderall (I DO NOT have ADHD), Vyvanse, a couple other ones that I had already been taking (Lamictal, Latuda, Trazodone). All of this combined? My god I was so f***** up mentally and emotionally. I was a sobbing wreck. That's why my plans stopped...I knew I wasn't stable enough to go to grad school, or anywhere really. I just...stagnated. 2016 was a horrible, horrible year.

Oh, and to top it off, at the beginning of December I found out I was 5 weeks pregnant. I told him and he kept saying, over and over, "I'm not going to be a dad." I just turned 22, he was 24. I knew I wasn't well enough to give my child all that she deserved...I was dirt poor, I couldn't pay any of my bills, I was batshit crazy, my boyfriend was taking part-time college classes at a community college to try and get back into his degree...I just wasn't capable of giving my baby all the love that she deserves. She deserves the world, and I could not give her that. It hurt so much. Please do not judge me...I grieved for my baby, and still do. I am crying right now. After it was done the next week, my boyfriend wasn't very sympathetic or supportive. He just didn't understand. I think another woman would, but I had no one. So I hold her funeral in my heart, and I sing her eulogy alone. I will not forget my little baby and I can only hope that if there is a God, that he forgives me, and I will see her in heaven.
It comforts me a bit to think about how energy is neither created nor destroyed, only transformed. To me, souls are energy. Therefore, we are never truly lost, merely transformed. So my baby still lives, somewhere. Maybe one day she will come back to me. Even if it is not with me, even if it is in another time, in another life, with another family, she will live, and she will love and be loved. It hurts, but I'd like to think that I did what I did out of love - yet it feels like agony (I can't stop crying).

About a month afterward, I went back to the clinic and insisted something was wrong. They didn't take me seriously and the nurse practitioner did a quick, dismissive "exam..." So I had to make another appointment and I demanded to see the doctor. I had gotten a UTI, so he gave me antibiotics. I was taking birth control pills at that time. I did not realize that antibiotics nullify the effect of birth control.
In March 2017, I had another abortion. My baby was 8 weeks old. He had the smallest of heartbeats. He had a heartbeat and I killed him. Right after I lost my other baby. I feel like a monster. I hold both of them in my heart of hearts, but that does not lessen the pain. I had to handle both of their deaths at once. It destroyed me. I got an IUD, which has been fine so far. I still think about my babies, what they would look like, imagining scenarios that will never happen. I know what their names would have been. I carry an impossible shame, unimaginable self-loathing, and sadness within me. It weighs my heart down like an anchor.

My relationship with my boyfriend has been good since all of that. I told him that I forgive him for what he did (the hospital thing), and I do, but I do not forget. If I had kept my child, I think he would have eventually left. He seemed hurt when I said that to him, but...he stomped out that intrinsic, deep trust. When things get difficult, the only thing I can count on is for him to leave. When we have an argument, which isn't often but still happens, he says, "That's it. I'm leaving," or some variation, and you guessed it - he leaves. So what am I supposed to think and feel? How can I trust him? It will take time, and it has gotten a bit better, but I have my doubts. And those doubts really eat at me, because frankly I love this man as much as I did 2-3 years ago, and if I were asked I would say that I want to have his children. He has expressed similar thoughts, but, well...I still have my reservations. I guess all I can do is hope. I'm probably going to end up more defeated than ever.

Things with my medication are still kind of a mess. I went through withdrawal from benzos on my own - he had me on Valium for over a year, in increasing amounts, then Klonopin. I got off the stimulants. I'm not 100% stable. I still want to be dead. I was accepted to grad school, an M.S. Thesis program in Biology. I'll be studying animal behavior, genetics, and evolution. I got a position as a graduate teaching assistant, meaning I get a tuition waiver and great benefits. I signed the lease to my apartment last week, where I'll be staying with 4 other girls. But the school is 3.5hrs away, and I know no one there. I know no one and nothing about the town. I don't know the school, I don't know anything. As sad as it sounds, that's further away from home than I've ever been, and I'll be utterly alone. I don't know how to function. I don't know how to be a person, how to be an adult, how to do anything. I don't even know how to pay the internet bill. This is the furthest away I've ever been from my boyfriend, who is also going back to school. He's looking to graduate ~December 2018 as a Math major. I'm supposed to graduate in May 2019. I love him so much and I want to be with him. A long time ago, I expressed some of my fears and apprehension to him, and he said that I shouldn't worry because he plans to keep me around for a long time, and when I said I was afraid he would find another girl at college, he said that was silly and wouldn't happen, because he only has eyes for me. I know he was telling the truth. I know he meant it. But - and I should have mentioned this before - he is much, much better ever since we got back together 2 years ago. No hint of depression. He told me that he found that he had to change himself, and he gave me his book, "The Noonday Demon," to read, telling me that it changed his life. I haven't read it. But I am not him, and frankly I think there's a lot more wrong in my brain than his. I admire him for overcoming his depression, but I don't think I can do the same, at least not like he has. He doesn't share his thoughts or feelings very much, which means my imagination is left to run wild and I always imagine and think the worst. Really gets my anxiety going. I'm the kind of person who needs to HEAR that you love me once in a while, I need to HEAR you say and reaffirm that you're there for me, that you're not leaving. I hate feeling so needy but I just need firm reassurance, and to feel loved and validated. Can you relate?

So here I am. 22 years old and I've had a suicide plan for years, but only recently am I researching and planning minute details in complete seriousness. I'm supposed to be moving in two weeks and by god I am absolutely TERRIFIED. I wish I weren't going to school, I'm so scared. I'm paralyzed by fear. My biggest fear is that I will lose him. We've discussed visiting each other every couple of weeks, but it's a considerable distance and both of us will be very busy. He's still working at that pizza place (in fact, he's head manager now, I'm proud of him), and I'll be bogged down with the graduate teaching assistant work, which is supposed to be 20 hours a week. I am to teach two lab sections, one of which I have never taken a course for...I'm so scared. I can't teach these other kids, most of whom are just about the same age as me, especially about a subject I don't know. I'm afraid I will fail and lose the position. I'm afraid that I will start school and in maybe a month I'll have a mental breakdown. What a waste of time, money, effort, and tears. I'm afraid that the classes will be too much for me - after all, I graduated almost 2 years ago...This is the biggest thing I've done in my life so far. I have no friends, I'm a loser with no job, I don't leave the house, I'm worthless. I'm extremely disheartened and so very, very afraid. I wish everything would just stop. Everything stop so I can breathe for once. I don't want to be a part of the sad, rote, monotonous rat race that I perceive society as. Chasing the green dragon endlessly, a slave to societal construct. God, I don't want to be anything at all. I want to stay here, with my boyfriend. I would get a job. I know that I should go to school, and I guess I have to now that I signed the lease and accepted the teaching assistant position...by all accounts I've got everything going for me, but I don't want any of it. Who will hold me when I cry at night? Who will play Blackbird for me on the guitar when I'm sad? Who will hold my hand as I fall?
I know that I cannot put all of my happiness on one person - it's not fair to either of us. I know that, and I'm trying not to. But I'm so afraid. I'm confused...I want a future with him, yet I don't want a future at all. I don't understand myself; I'm a walking paradox. I want to be a research scientist, and I am passionate about many things, if you can get through the rain clouds. It has always been a dream of mine to publish my short stories and poetry. I write a lot. Yet I do not see any of it becoming reality. What exactly will I do with my Masters? I don't know. So does that make all this a waste...?
I still self-harm, usually cigarettes, but quite infrequently. I never got hooked on smoking; I go months without with no difficulty whatsoever. My boyfriend still smokes cigars, keeps saying he needs to quit, he's tried quitting 3-4 times since we've been together, eh...I support his efforts and occasionally I'll make a comment about it, but it's his health, his life, and I'm not going to push or irritate him. Don't want to be a hypocrite myself, since I do worse things (*cough* other drugs sometimes *cough*) that I'm not too proud of and I know he doesn't condone. I love him and want him to be healthy, that's all.

I am so, so sorry for this unbelievably long post...I've never written it all out.

I am indescribably terrified, and painfully miserable. The fear is insurmountable. God help me.

Heart
Posts: 1
Joined: Thu Jul 27, 2017 8:42 pm

Re: Is There Anybody Out There? Yes I'm here my name is heart

Postby Heart » Thu Jul 27, 2017 8:53 pm

Being alone with no one to talk to that understands depression my mother-in-law once told me that if I would eat a good meal my depression Will go away go away is that not a joke


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