Wintear
15-05-14, 10:59
Hi. My real name's Eric. I'm only 20 years of age. I've been suffering from Generalized Anxiety/Panic Disorder since age 8 when I was first diagnosed.
For a little over 12 years, I've tried to keep my head above water the best I humanly could. But, now it's getting awfully cramped and difficult to even breathe since the floodgates have burst wide open...
These past two months have been Hell. There is no other way of putting it. So much has happened. So much has changed. I can't take this anymore.
This passed March (the 6th) my Uncle, whom I looked up to as a father figure (since the relationship between myself and my dad simply does not exist..) and admired endlessly, praised to the highest, and basked in his company, passed away abruptly in his sleep. We had a very close and unimaginably strong bond. He was my favorite Uncle...hands down. When I first heard the news from my parents, I didn't quite...feel anything, ya' know? I speculate that it was the initial shock and disbelief. For a few days after that, I wasn't mourning like the rest of my family. I didn't cry, I didn't come under a spell of depression, I wasn't sad...whatsoever. He was in my heart and thoughts CONSTANTLY, however. I think I was trying to convince myself otherwise. I genuinely believed that he wasn't really gone from this world and that it was all an illusion of some sort, like a really prolonged bad dream that I would eventually wake up from. However, one night around 3 AM, a week or so later, it happened. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks straight to the chest. It felt as if my psyche, heart, and soul had been obliterated simultaneously. Something "slipped" so to speak. My breaking point had finally been reached and it dawned on me that he was truly gone from our lives forever. I cried my eyes out for hours on end. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep much. I didn't talk much. I isolated myself, basically. Whenever I was fortunate enough to get at least SOME rest, I'd dream lucidly about him. Though the dreams were bittersweet, they provided me a source of...some kind of closure. I'd wake up from them and the emotional pain and mental torment would begin it's torturous cycle all over again and I was subject to it's every pace. It hurt that much more when I attended his Wake. It was open-casket (that much I had NO idea about. I was not informed his body would be present for viewing...) and the moment I turned the corner, this overwhelming amount of dark and negative energy engulfed me. I could tell it was going to be a very gloomy and painstaking afternoon. I looked down at him in total disbelief. My heart was breaking for him the entire time. He was so young. He passed at just 58 years young (not old..). The more I tried to remain in such a dreary environment, the more anxious, panicky, disconnected, and depressed I quickly became. I had to step out for some air. If I hadn't, I think I would have lost my strength and fainted. I'm not exactly the most ideally composed individual when it comes to that kind of stuff.
Afterwards, when we arrived back home, I believe with all of my heart that something followed me. Something sinister...something nefarious. Something with evil intent...something disturbingly malevolent. This dreadful feeling shadowed over me for weeks to come...until it finally peaked, until the very atmosphere I drew breath from became a daily holding cell. There was a shift in the air. It was harder to breathe calmly...it's more of a suffocating sensation these days. My good mood has been diminished and reformed in the worst of ways. My mood now is that of a boy who has long since lost his heart, his way, and his self in this grueling process we commonly refer to as Life. I see not a single point in anything anymore. Just...hopelessness. Simply blackness.
Every damn day is a chore. I've purposely allowed my sleep schedule to become unhinged. I sleep the day away and remain wide awake, silently drowning in a roaring sea of so much pain and incomparable misery. Loneliness is a slow killer. It takes it's time with each victim it sights. It's techniques are uniquely cold and relentlessly malicious. I have no one to talk to. Literally. All the friends I grew up with up and vanished into thin air, seemingly. All those I urged to create new bonds with were failed experiments. They too lost interest and forgot all about the trials and tribulations we faced and experienced together in the past. My family has grown apart, as well. It has never been a stable bunch to begin with, really. If you're seeking the loving, tender, and supportive type...you've come knocking at the wrong door, I'm afraid. I can't rely on "friends" or "family." Hah...I used to have friends. Yes. However, they both died a long time ago...
Their names were Shai and Ryder. They were both orphans. Shai lost her parents to the war raging overseas and Ryder never knew his Father as he walked out on him and his mother while he was still just an infant. His mother passed away via suicide some years later. We could easily relate to one another, and those common-ground relations were ultimately what brought us so closely together. I personally believe it was fate that guided me to those two. The three of us were inseparable...and shared some of the most memorably joyous moments together. But, just like all good things in Life, the ties of friendship that intertwined our hearts and merged our souls were about to be severed.
Shai had it the worst. She was mugged one night walking home alone from visiting her grandmother. She put up a fight as her murderer used force in an attempt to steal her mother's necklace that had been passed down to Shai as a precious keepsake. She was stabbed multiple times and had her throat slit by this heartless savage...who was never found by authorities, oddly enough. I had the privilege of discovering her body that night after growing suspicious of the fact that she was not returning calls or answering texts. That was NOT like Shai at all. Me and Ryder were waiting on her at my house and after a few hours clocked by, we decided to head out and look for her. The rest is....history...sadly.
Ryder, already bearing quite a heavy burden himself, couldn't bring himself to tolerate the news and withstand anymore heartbreak, committed suicide that night without my knowing as he didn't show any signs of being troubled over the ordeal...his grandmother informed me the following morning when I went to go and check on him. She was sulking uncontrollably. I was given the note he had left behind for me. I would rather not type out it's consistency for personal and obvious reasons.
I lost Shai and Ryder prior to my Uncle. I was all alone again...abandoned and left to befriend myself and somehow survive while in pieces that would only make up, if I was lucky, a tenth of the person I used to be...
I was a lonely child growing up. Very often I'd be off to myself. I'd prefer not to engage in activities requiring being social even if it was to the slightest degree. I've always been that way. I can't definitively say why, though. It's just an anomaly, I suppose.
At one point, I struggled off and on with a stubborn and self-destructive addiction to Vicodin and Percocet. Any pain killer would do, really, but those were my top preferences. I'd also ingest codeine whenever the rarity arose. I'd mix, as well. The drug cocktails aided in numbing reality for me and made it "easier" to live and be generically happy. That whole episode consumed a little over three years of my Life. The only person who discovered my problem was my cousin, who I no longer speak to. Though he did help me taper off the stuff, he didn't seem all that enthused about it or even concerned for me or my well-being in the least. Go figure.........
I've had it bad. Real bad. Back in December, January, and February, my anxiety got so bad that I developed a prominent phobia of EATING. For a good 3-4 months, I barely ate anything. I endured somehow by drinking smoothies, nutrition shakes, eating toast, some fruits, and minuscule scraps off the dinner plate. I could feel my physical self deteriorating and it was as if I just couldn't bring myself to genuinely CARE. I was in bed or asleep for the most part, anyway. The hunger pains were too great to cope with while I was conscious and the weakness/shakiness/fatigue from being undernourished was a terribly strenuous obstacle to overcome in it's own right - so I decided it was best to drift off into my dreams as frequently as I could, for as LONG as I could. That was my last line of defense, essentially. I lost a total of 33lbs through-out all of that nonsense that was purely anxiety-induced. Fun times, I tell you........
I've been through quite a bit for someone who has barely even experienced Life for the most part, as you can plainly see. The flames of my once youthfully hopeful passions and desires have been extinguished. I no longer yield the energy required to chase after my dreams. It's all just...too much.
Eating is a bother. Drinking is a bother. Showering is a bother. Communication is a bother. Effort is a bother. Human Maintenance it's self is a bother. I can't stand it. I sincerely can't.
The heart palpitations, the tight chest, the shaky limbs, the freezing cold hands/feet/face, the pressure in my head, the headaches, the nausea, the dizziness, the light-headedness, the cold sweats, the fearful adrenaline rushes, the blurred vision, the nightmares, the insomnia, the tenseness, the ringing in my ears, the everlasting feeling of impending doom, the racing/scattered thoughts, the inability to calm myself down, the panic, the crushing depression, the constant feeling of being disconnected from the real world (derealization/depersonalization), seeing things that aren't even there, hearing things that aren't even there, the rampant paranoia, the suicidal thoughts (relax, I would never go through with it as I respect and cherish Life too much to go out in such a selfish manner..), the infinitely endless weight that perches it's self atop my shoulders................it's TOO MUCH.
I don't want this. I never wanted this. I didn't ask for ANY of this.
I just feel so dehumanized by these afflictions. Night after night after night after night after NIGHT, it's vicious bout after vicious bout and I feel like I'm going to come up short at some point and BAM - that'll be the end of it.
When will this ever end? When will the rain let up? When will the sun have it's chance to shine it's rays through the dust and smoke that has such a strangle hold on my Life? Is there light at the end of the tunnel...? Is this all even WORTH fighting and enduring? Please, somebody.....let me know. Let me know that you've been deserted in the same black and white world that I have been deserted in......
Thank you all for reading...and hopefully responding. I'll diligently await any advice or similar stories.
Be well, all........
For a little over 12 years, I've tried to keep my head above water the best I humanly could. But, now it's getting awfully cramped and difficult to even breathe since the floodgates have burst wide open...
These past two months have been Hell. There is no other way of putting it. So much has happened. So much has changed. I can't take this anymore.
This passed March (the 6th) my Uncle, whom I looked up to as a father figure (since the relationship between myself and my dad simply does not exist..) and admired endlessly, praised to the highest, and basked in his company, passed away abruptly in his sleep. We had a very close and unimaginably strong bond. He was my favorite Uncle...hands down. When I first heard the news from my parents, I didn't quite...feel anything, ya' know? I speculate that it was the initial shock and disbelief. For a few days after that, I wasn't mourning like the rest of my family. I didn't cry, I didn't come under a spell of depression, I wasn't sad...whatsoever. He was in my heart and thoughts CONSTANTLY, however. I think I was trying to convince myself otherwise. I genuinely believed that he wasn't really gone from this world and that it was all an illusion of some sort, like a really prolonged bad dream that I would eventually wake up from. However, one night around 3 AM, a week or so later, it happened. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks straight to the chest. It felt as if my psyche, heart, and soul had been obliterated simultaneously. Something "slipped" so to speak. My breaking point had finally been reached and it dawned on me that he was truly gone from our lives forever. I cried my eyes out for hours on end. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep much. I didn't talk much. I isolated myself, basically. Whenever I was fortunate enough to get at least SOME rest, I'd dream lucidly about him. Though the dreams were bittersweet, they provided me a source of...some kind of closure. I'd wake up from them and the emotional pain and mental torment would begin it's torturous cycle all over again and I was subject to it's every pace. It hurt that much more when I attended his Wake. It was open-casket (that much I had NO idea about. I was not informed his body would be present for viewing...) and the moment I turned the corner, this overwhelming amount of dark and negative energy engulfed me. I could tell it was going to be a very gloomy and painstaking afternoon. I looked down at him in total disbelief. My heart was breaking for him the entire time. He was so young. He passed at just 58 years young (not old..). The more I tried to remain in such a dreary environment, the more anxious, panicky, disconnected, and depressed I quickly became. I had to step out for some air. If I hadn't, I think I would have lost my strength and fainted. I'm not exactly the most ideally composed individual when it comes to that kind of stuff.
Afterwards, when we arrived back home, I believe with all of my heart that something followed me. Something sinister...something nefarious. Something with evil intent...something disturbingly malevolent. This dreadful feeling shadowed over me for weeks to come...until it finally peaked, until the very atmosphere I drew breath from became a daily holding cell. There was a shift in the air. It was harder to breathe calmly...it's more of a suffocating sensation these days. My good mood has been diminished and reformed in the worst of ways. My mood now is that of a boy who has long since lost his heart, his way, and his self in this grueling process we commonly refer to as Life. I see not a single point in anything anymore. Just...hopelessness. Simply blackness.
Every damn day is a chore. I've purposely allowed my sleep schedule to become unhinged. I sleep the day away and remain wide awake, silently drowning in a roaring sea of so much pain and incomparable misery. Loneliness is a slow killer. It takes it's time with each victim it sights. It's techniques are uniquely cold and relentlessly malicious. I have no one to talk to. Literally. All the friends I grew up with up and vanished into thin air, seemingly. All those I urged to create new bonds with were failed experiments. They too lost interest and forgot all about the trials and tribulations we faced and experienced together in the past. My family has grown apart, as well. It has never been a stable bunch to begin with, really. If you're seeking the loving, tender, and supportive type...you've come knocking at the wrong door, I'm afraid. I can't rely on "friends" or "family." Hah...I used to have friends. Yes. However, they both died a long time ago...
Their names were Shai and Ryder. They were both orphans. Shai lost her parents to the war raging overseas and Ryder never knew his Father as he walked out on him and his mother while he was still just an infant. His mother passed away via suicide some years later. We could easily relate to one another, and those common-ground relations were ultimately what brought us so closely together. I personally believe it was fate that guided me to those two. The three of us were inseparable...and shared some of the most memorably joyous moments together. But, just like all good things in Life, the ties of friendship that intertwined our hearts and merged our souls were about to be severed.
Shai had it the worst. She was mugged one night walking home alone from visiting her grandmother. She put up a fight as her murderer used force in an attempt to steal her mother's necklace that had been passed down to Shai as a precious keepsake. She was stabbed multiple times and had her throat slit by this heartless savage...who was never found by authorities, oddly enough. I had the privilege of discovering her body that night after growing suspicious of the fact that she was not returning calls or answering texts. That was NOT like Shai at all. Me and Ryder were waiting on her at my house and after a few hours clocked by, we decided to head out and look for her. The rest is....history...sadly.
Ryder, already bearing quite a heavy burden himself, couldn't bring himself to tolerate the news and withstand anymore heartbreak, committed suicide that night without my knowing as he didn't show any signs of being troubled over the ordeal...his grandmother informed me the following morning when I went to go and check on him. She was sulking uncontrollably. I was given the note he had left behind for me. I would rather not type out it's consistency for personal and obvious reasons.
I lost Shai and Ryder prior to my Uncle. I was all alone again...abandoned and left to befriend myself and somehow survive while in pieces that would only make up, if I was lucky, a tenth of the person I used to be...
I was a lonely child growing up. Very often I'd be off to myself. I'd prefer not to engage in activities requiring being social even if it was to the slightest degree. I've always been that way. I can't definitively say why, though. It's just an anomaly, I suppose.
At one point, I struggled off and on with a stubborn and self-destructive addiction to Vicodin and Percocet. Any pain killer would do, really, but those were my top preferences. I'd also ingest codeine whenever the rarity arose. I'd mix, as well. The drug cocktails aided in numbing reality for me and made it "easier" to live and be generically happy. That whole episode consumed a little over three years of my Life. The only person who discovered my problem was my cousin, who I no longer speak to. Though he did help me taper off the stuff, he didn't seem all that enthused about it or even concerned for me or my well-being in the least. Go figure.........
I've had it bad. Real bad. Back in December, January, and February, my anxiety got so bad that I developed a prominent phobia of EATING. For a good 3-4 months, I barely ate anything. I endured somehow by drinking smoothies, nutrition shakes, eating toast, some fruits, and minuscule scraps off the dinner plate. I could feel my physical self deteriorating and it was as if I just couldn't bring myself to genuinely CARE. I was in bed or asleep for the most part, anyway. The hunger pains were too great to cope with while I was conscious and the weakness/shakiness/fatigue from being undernourished was a terribly strenuous obstacle to overcome in it's own right - so I decided it was best to drift off into my dreams as frequently as I could, for as LONG as I could. That was my last line of defense, essentially. I lost a total of 33lbs through-out all of that nonsense that was purely anxiety-induced. Fun times, I tell you........
I've been through quite a bit for someone who has barely even experienced Life for the most part, as you can plainly see. The flames of my once youthfully hopeful passions and desires have been extinguished. I no longer yield the energy required to chase after my dreams. It's all just...too much.
Eating is a bother. Drinking is a bother. Showering is a bother. Communication is a bother. Effort is a bother. Human Maintenance it's self is a bother. I can't stand it. I sincerely can't.
The heart palpitations, the tight chest, the shaky limbs, the freezing cold hands/feet/face, the pressure in my head, the headaches, the nausea, the dizziness, the light-headedness, the cold sweats, the fearful adrenaline rushes, the blurred vision, the nightmares, the insomnia, the tenseness, the ringing in my ears, the everlasting feeling of impending doom, the racing/scattered thoughts, the inability to calm myself down, the panic, the crushing depression, the constant feeling of being disconnected from the real world (derealization/depersonalization), seeing things that aren't even there, hearing things that aren't even there, the rampant paranoia, the suicidal thoughts (relax, I would never go through with it as I respect and cherish Life too much to go out in such a selfish manner..), the infinitely endless weight that perches it's self atop my shoulders................it's TOO MUCH.
I don't want this. I never wanted this. I didn't ask for ANY of this.
I just feel so dehumanized by these afflictions. Night after night after night after night after NIGHT, it's vicious bout after vicious bout and I feel like I'm going to come up short at some point and BAM - that'll be the end of it.
When will this ever end? When will the rain let up? When will the sun have it's chance to shine it's rays through the dust and smoke that has such a strangle hold on my Life? Is there light at the end of the tunnel...? Is this all even WORTH fighting and enduring? Please, somebody.....let me know. Let me know that you've been deserted in the same black and white world that I have been deserted in......
Thank you all for reading...and hopefully responding. I'll diligently await any advice or similar stories.
Be well, all........