Beating the Beast

 

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As far back as I can remember there has been a black cloud hanging over my head.  My parents were convinced I would someday grow out of it and all of the idiosyncrasies that I have.  Unfortunately that never happened, they just didn't know it.  Instead of changing and losing the cloud, I simply hid it behind a quiet façade.  I was the kid in school who was teased for being a genius, nominated most likely to succeed, who would be the kid to blow up the school (which I never did) etc.  I didn't participate in social obligations like parties or dating or things 'normal' kids my age were supposed to do.  I liked being alone.  I enjoy silence and constant chatter or background noise makes it impossible to do anything.  I had enough chatter going on in my head constantly, why would I want to hear outside chatter.  It all just added to the chaos. 

I got through grade school, and high school barely.  The feeling that I needed to die ran through my head as a movie would, over and over and over.  I did fairly well in school, though good was never good enough.  IT wanted me to be perfect, in order to keep IT at bay I had to be perfect and anything less than perfection meant IT won and I should be dead. 

Then I went away to college.  600 miles away from anyone I knew.  Away from the 1 friend I had who knew anything about how I was feeling.  My parents were oblivious to it.  At college I had to take a bus to classes, I had to be out in public alone, I had to do all of these things that scare me and it just got harder and harder to leave the house.  I would cut classes, just never get out of bed.  I stopped eating, what was the point I was just going to die anyway, I stopped sleeping and it all just snowballed.  I would call my friend back home in hysterics, please help me, and there was nothing he could do.

In despair I searched the internet and found BtB.  I lurked for a long time, then started posting.  It has helped tremendously.

Eventually my friend convinced me to call a shrink.  That began the mess.  I started seeing someone, a psych resident at the beginning of second semester.  She wasn't very good IMO and she just keep telling me I had to talk I had to talk.  I have a very hard time talking to anyone let alone a complete stranger. I just can't do it. So I started writing things down but she wouldn't accept that either.  She did start me on meds but they weren't working, I still wasn't getting any sleep and no relief.  Finally I just broke down- quit school, called my parents and told them I was coming home and I went home.

Once home I got the 3rd degree from my parents.  The yelling the screaming the how I was wasting my life.  It was awful.  They threatened to kick me out more times than I could count.  How I didn't have a job, wasn't going to school, wasn't doing anything.  When in reality I was trying very hard to just stay alive. 

I began to see a new shrink, one who I think has some brains, and he accepts that when I can't talk I write.  At 1st all he got were sheets and sheets of paper from me.  But as the months go on those have become less frequent.

In the months that I've been with my new shrink there have been really bad times (was hospitalized) and ok times.  With the new meds things seem to be balancing a bit better than they ever were.

I've tried Suicide 6 or 7 times now, and am obviously not good at it or else I would have succeeded one of those times.  Most of those times my dogs were what saved me.  At that last second I just couldn't leave them.

I'm another person who SI's as well.  For those who don't understand it, I wouldn't know how to explain.  It's just a part of who I am.  Only 3 people in RL know I do it- my shrink, my friend, and a shrink friend of my friend.  It is a very private act and the how's and the whys are my business and no one else.

Don't know if this helps any one who reads it to relate or maybe to seek help.  I hope it does. Right now I'm feeling really down, I don't know if I'll make it through this spell, or at least make it through without going back to the hospital, but who knows, time will tell. 

My mother sent me a little saying the other day which I think holds true for those of us suffering from IT:  "The mighty oak is just yesterday's nut that held its ground."
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Revised: 04/02/05.

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