HPLovecraft
10-02-14, 22:58
Hey all,
New to the forum. New to speaking about any of this to anyone, ever, pretty much. I've suffered from some sort of anxiety and/or depression since I was an adolescent, though undiagnosed. I ended up leaving school at a young age because of what I suppose now was a crippling anxiety, maybe a result of my upbringing, I don't know, and became what amounts to a shut in through my teenage years. I never got help, and after the crying, the self-cutting, and self-pity, eventually forced myself to become independent and try to embrace the outside world when I was close to 20, making myself believe I did this to myself and it was only me that could fix me. I've been trying to learn how to operate in normal society with other human beings since then, how not to be afraid just being around people, and it's been very difficult.
I haven't been able to keep jobs, make friends outside of very informal acquaintances, and I find myself running from everything, so much so that I physically move away from places and towns where people might begin to know who I am. For the longest time I thought these were just personal weaknesses in my character, things I grew to be more and more ashamed of, ever angrier at myself for not being able to improve myself. Trying to overcome them made me feel worse about myself, as I haven't been able to. Then I met a woman, and it was the first time I could ever tell my thoughts and feelings to someone, and it was glorious.
Happiness, however, still seemed to elude me, and while we were together for years, I would find myself sinking into fits of melancholy more and more often again. It created friction in our relationship - my first one, and what I really wanted to be my only one, as I can not see myself being able to go through the emotional anguish of telling someone about myself the way I did with her again. We loved, we were engaged, we fought, it was my fault, and now she's gone, and it's been a year, and it's all the horrible way it was before, filled with thoughts of suicide, darkness, and hopelessness, and a crippling, debilitating fear of just about everything.
It took me a long time of searching for my purpose, something to make me happy, some type of meaning, and it wasn't until I actually felt what it was like to be close to someone and lose them to realize the meaning I've been looking for is found in that space between people. It's unfortunate that it's that exact thing that I find most difficult to achieve.
I've gone to the doctor once, and I am on my way again very soon and from there to a psychiatrist, and they've given me a small dosage of citalopram for now, but I'm deathly afraid to take it. I've been looking at the bottle for a month. I can't say it's because of the fear of side-effects, I don't know what it is, but I refuse to succumb to years of this kind of thing again, and I am set on getting better and being happy for once, the way the average person is. I don't want to feel like every day is a struggle with something inside of my head any more. I don't want my life ruined by myself, or whatever this is, any more. I have no one to talk to, and I've wanted to join a community like this for a long time, but... ya know.
Anyway. Yeah. I feel a little bit better just putting that out there! My Father once told me I`m almost 30, and I've accomplished nothing, but I don't believe that`s entirely true any more. I've survived through this thing called a life, and it's been anything but easy, and I think that in itself is some sort of accomplishment, right? Time to try and be happy, and I think being able to talk about it, even to strangers, is a good place to start.
New to the forum. New to speaking about any of this to anyone, ever, pretty much. I've suffered from some sort of anxiety and/or depression since I was an adolescent, though undiagnosed. I ended up leaving school at a young age because of what I suppose now was a crippling anxiety, maybe a result of my upbringing, I don't know, and became what amounts to a shut in through my teenage years. I never got help, and after the crying, the self-cutting, and self-pity, eventually forced myself to become independent and try to embrace the outside world when I was close to 20, making myself believe I did this to myself and it was only me that could fix me. I've been trying to learn how to operate in normal society with other human beings since then, how not to be afraid just being around people, and it's been very difficult.
I haven't been able to keep jobs, make friends outside of very informal acquaintances, and I find myself running from everything, so much so that I physically move away from places and towns where people might begin to know who I am. For the longest time I thought these were just personal weaknesses in my character, things I grew to be more and more ashamed of, ever angrier at myself for not being able to improve myself. Trying to overcome them made me feel worse about myself, as I haven't been able to. Then I met a woman, and it was the first time I could ever tell my thoughts and feelings to someone, and it was glorious.
Happiness, however, still seemed to elude me, and while we were together for years, I would find myself sinking into fits of melancholy more and more often again. It created friction in our relationship - my first one, and what I really wanted to be my only one, as I can not see myself being able to go through the emotional anguish of telling someone about myself the way I did with her again. We loved, we were engaged, we fought, it was my fault, and now she's gone, and it's been a year, and it's all the horrible way it was before, filled with thoughts of suicide, darkness, and hopelessness, and a crippling, debilitating fear of just about everything.
It took me a long time of searching for my purpose, something to make me happy, some type of meaning, and it wasn't until I actually felt what it was like to be close to someone and lose them to realize the meaning I've been looking for is found in that space between people. It's unfortunate that it's that exact thing that I find most difficult to achieve.
I've gone to the doctor once, and I am on my way again very soon and from there to a psychiatrist, and they've given me a small dosage of citalopram for now, but I'm deathly afraid to take it. I've been looking at the bottle for a month. I can't say it's because of the fear of side-effects, I don't know what it is, but I refuse to succumb to years of this kind of thing again, and I am set on getting better and being happy for once, the way the average person is. I don't want to feel like every day is a struggle with something inside of my head any more. I don't want my life ruined by myself, or whatever this is, any more. I have no one to talk to, and I've wanted to join a community like this for a long time, but... ya know.
Anyway. Yeah. I feel a little bit better just putting that out there! My Father once told me I`m almost 30, and I've accomplished nothing, but I don't believe that`s entirely true any more. I've survived through this thing called a life, and it's been anything but easy, and I think that in itself is some sort of accomplishment, right? Time to try and be happy, and I think being able to talk about it, even to strangers, is a good place to start.