NatteAsbak
04-01-09, 22:42
Firstly, I would like to thank anyone who takes their time to read this. It means alot to me, really. I recently stumbled upon this site and was overwhelmed by the absolute helpfulness and compassion from people who write here. Though I don't know any of you personally, I feel I should thank you. Just reading your posts and your responses, have been very comforting and educational. In turn, I would like to share my story with all of you. I'll try to keep it as short as possible, but if I know myself right, it'll probably turn out longer than what was intended. Bear with me:)
I was born in 1990 in a town called Soenderborg, in southern Denmark. My father, a german, was a chemistry teacher at a highscool. My mother was an art- and psychology teacher at the local folk school. I had the most loving and supportive parents you can imagine, and I always remember my childhood as being very happy. There was less to worry about - life was simple and well. A couple of weeks after my 3rd birthday, my father died from a blood clut - his third in a period of a few years. I don't remember much about him, nor his death, but he's always been a huge part of my mind.
Around the time I was 6, things started to go bad. My mother found another man and we moved to Copenhagen. He was a drug-addict. When he was off the heroin, he was the sweetest guy on earth, but whenever he was on, he became offensive and at times abusive. When I was about 9 years old, I began developing OCD. It started out small - just a few rituals a day and some occasional intrusive thoughts, but I never spoke of it, as I figured it would pass. Me and my mother moved away again, when I was 10, because my stepfathers abusive behavior escalated. I don't hate him, but I have sympathy for him. He was a very broken and tormented man.
After we moved to Vejle, I dropped out or was kicked out of virtually every school I went to. Not that I was a bully or a problem-child, but I always questioned the simple logic that most teachers there had, which they found rather provoking. When I moved to my third school, around the age of 12, my OCD got worse. Literally, my whole day was build up by rituals and repetition - compulsive blinking, swallowing, breathing, speaking etc. I peed my pants while at school and was harrased (or hated) by everyone, because they thought I was "weird". I felt like a prisoner sent away for life, and it was truly hell. My mother, who was my only friend, arranged for some counselling and I was given cipramil. After about three or four weeks, the OCD had pretty much passed. By the time I got to see a counsellor, she told me that it was an anxiety disorder, that manifested itself as OCD. Today, I have no doubt, that I would not have survived, had it not been for the medication and my mothers love, support and care.
When I was 15, I went to boarding school. It turned out to be paradise. Everyone accepted each other and though it's hard to believe, all the 90-something students that went there, were friends. I remember it as being a time of bliss - chatting in our rooms, the morning assembly's or strolling across the beautiful campus. It changed me - I was happy and confident again. The world was my oyster and I was ready to conquer all of life's obstacles. I met my first sweet-heart there, had many good friends and... I started smoking. :blush:
Well, I came back home after a year, feeling good about myself - so I stopped taking my medication. Nothing happened. I started high school and after about a year-or-so, I started feeling bad again. Low self-esteem and no motivation. Most of my friends from the boarding school (except those that were closest to me) went their separate ways and I found myself lonely. It got worse too - I couldn't stand the face, I saw in the mirror every morning, spend all of my time in front of the computer and slept through the day, only to stay up late.
This November, I was at a reunion-party with those from my boarding school. It was lots of fun, until someone asked me, if I wanted to "smoke a roach?". I said yes. I can honestly say, that I've never felt worse in my life! It was excruciating - laying in bed, I felt myself drifting away to places, way worse than what anyone can ever imagine!! Hopelessness and agony, my mind was in chaos.
When I woke up the next morning, something was changed. It was like walking around in a dream-world. I felt cut-off from reality, my mind seem drowsy and I had trouble concentrating. I felt like something in my head was "broken" or that a piece of my soul was missing. I started getting panic attacks - I was terrified that I was going crazy or psychotic, that I was dying or that the world was coming to an end. I starting crying and shivering uncontrollable and the derealization worsened, to the point, that I was afraid, my mind was going to cave in. My mother, yet again, supported me, nurtured me and held my hand when things were the hardest. We saw a therapist, who explained the the drugs had "awoken" my anxiety disorder. I went back on Cipramil and was prescribed with some benzodiazepines. This was 1½ weeks ago. I feel much better now, but I'm far from "okay". I'm seeing my doctor this Wednesday, with my mom, discussing the progress and the possibility of starting on some CBT.
I'm confident, that this will pass and I'll get over this. I have big plans with my life and I'm going to reach my goal, no matter what. It's a struggle, but I won't back down.
Thank you for letting me share and I will continue to stay on these boards!
Love:hugs:
Jarl, 18 years old.
I was born in 1990 in a town called Soenderborg, in southern Denmark. My father, a german, was a chemistry teacher at a highscool. My mother was an art- and psychology teacher at the local folk school. I had the most loving and supportive parents you can imagine, and I always remember my childhood as being very happy. There was less to worry about - life was simple and well. A couple of weeks after my 3rd birthday, my father died from a blood clut - his third in a period of a few years. I don't remember much about him, nor his death, but he's always been a huge part of my mind.
Around the time I was 6, things started to go bad. My mother found another man and we moved to Copenhagen. He was a drug-addict. When he was off the heroin, he was the sweetest guy on earth, but whenever he was on, he became offensive and at times abusive. When I was about 9 years old, I began developing OCD. It started out small - just a few rituals a day and some occasional intrusive thoughts, but I never spoke of it, as I figured it would pass. Me and my mother moved away again, when I was 10, because my stepfathers abusive behavior escalated. I don't hate him, but I have sympathy for him. He was a very broken and tormented man.
After we moved to Vejle, I dropped out or was kicked out of virtually every school I went to. Not that I was a bully or a problem-child, but I always questioned the simple logic that most teachers there had, which they found rather provoking. When I moved to my third school, around the age of 12, my OCD got worse. Literally, my whole day was build up by rituals and repetition - compulsive blinking, swallowing, breathing, speaking etc. I peed my pants while at school and was harrased (or hated) by everyone, because they thought I was "weird". I felt like a prisoner sent away for life, and it was truly hell. My mother, who was my only friend, arranged for some counselling and I was given cipramil. After about three or four weeks, the OCD had pretty much passed. By the time I got to see a counsellor, she told me that it was an anxiety disorder, that manifested itself as OCD. Today, I have no doubt, that I would not have survived, had it not been for the medication and my mothers love, support and care.
When I was 15, I went to boarding school. It turned out to be paradise. Everyone accepted each other and though it's hard to believe, all the 90-something students that went there, were friends. I remember it as being a time of bliss - chatting in our rooms, the morning assembly's or strolling across the beautiful campus. It changed me - I was happy and confident again. The world was my oyster and I was ready to conquer all of life's obstacles. I met my first sweet-heart there, had many good friends and... I started smoking. :blush:
Well, I came back home after a year, feeling good about myself - so I stopped taking my medication. Nothing happened. I started high school and after about a year-or-so, I started feeling bad again. Low self-esteem and no motivation. Most of my friends from the boarding school (except those that were closest to me) went their separate ways and I found myself lonely. It got worse too - I couldn't stand the face, I saw in the mirror every morning, spend all of my time in front of the computer and slept through the day, only to stay up late.
This November, I was at a reunion-party with those from my boarding school. It was lots of fun, until someone asked me, if I wanted to "smoke a roach?". I said yes. I can honestly say, that I've never felt worse in my life! It was excruciating - laying in bed, I felt myself drifting away to places, way worse than what anyone can ever imagine!! Hopelessness and agony, my mind was in chaos.
When I woke up the next morning, something was changed. It was like walking around in a dream-world. I felt cut-off from reality, my mind seem drowsy and I had trouble concentrating. I felt like something in my head was "broken" or that a piece of my soul was missing. I started getting panic attacks - I was terrified that I was going crazy or psychotic, that I was dying or that the world was coming to an end. I starting crying and shivering uncontrollable and the derealization worsened, to the point, that I was afraid, my mind was going to cave in. My mother, yet again, supported me, nurtured me and held my hand when things were the hardest. We saw a therapist, who explained the the drugs had "awoken" my anxiety disorder. I went back on Cipramil and was prescribed with some benzodiazepines. This was 1½ weeks ago. I feel much better now, but I'm far from "okay". I'm seeing my doctor this Wednesday, with my mom, discussing the progress and the possibility of starting on some CBT.
I'm confident, that this will pass and I'll get over this. I have big plans with my life and I'm going to reach my goal, no matter what. It's a struggle, but I won't back down.
Thank you for letting me share and I will continue to stay on these boards!
Love:hugs:
Jarl, 18 years old.