Everyone struggles at some point in their life, and I wanted to create this thread so that maybe we could all help each other a little bit. I created this with things like mental conditions, eating disorders, and self-injury in mind but please feel free to share about any kind of struggle you want to. I want this thread to be a safe place for people to share struggle stories, recovery stories, why they do/don't want to get better, advice, and anything else related. So please be respectful :) Thanks
To be fair, I'll go first. I currently struggle a lot with depression and cutting. I also have some issues with eating and so I sometimes purge or restrict what I eat. Lately I've been extremely reckless :/ I know that I need to get better, but at the same time, I'm having a hard time seeing the point in getting up if I'm just going to fall down again...
I suffer from chrinic depression, and an anxiety disorder that compells me to pull out my hair. I haven't had eyelashes for seven years, and am currently without eyebrows. I used to cut, and occaisionally still do. I weigh 95 pounds, and am teased often because of my weight. I am slightly schizophrenic, and suffer from Anti-social personality disorceder.( If somebody tells me that their mother died, I could seriously care less. If my parents died I wouldn't mourn because I would be incapable of doing so due to the Anti-social personality disorder...) I am awkward, and transgen.der.... ummm... I am physically a girl but I identify as a boy. I am g.a.y and have a loving boyfriend, and he's the only reason i haven't killed myself yet.... so yeah... that's my story
Author!!! Your boyfriend can't be the only reason you haven't died, I'm here! *superhero music in the background* But seriously, I'm here for you.
Max, when i met him i had pretty much abandoned this site. He saved me
Okay, I was born the seventh out of nine kids.
Right before my sixth birthday I discovered I was allergic to wheat, corn, and soy, all of which people put in almost everything.
When I was nine I suddenly started to get really thin for no apparent reason, and my parents spent all year worrying about me. I didn't care, keck, I hardly noticed that my bones were sticking out all over the place. My mom said I was skinny and I took it as a compliment. I only really noticed that it was getting weird when I realized my waist was several inches smaller than my younger sister's.
I was also always thirsty, and going to the bathroom every twenty minutes. When I got up in the middle of the night my mom thought I was trying to peek at the movies she was watching, because that's something little kids do. She didn't even realize how much water I was drinking. :p
My mom wanted to take me to the doctor, but I didn't like doctors and said I didn't want to go. She finally made me when I reached 43 pounds (my highest before that was 52). My little sister was about 46 pounds, and she was more upset about it than I was, because then she thought maybe she was fat. I don't think she's ever quite gotten over that...
When I got to the doctor's office, they took a urine sample and tested it, told me I had Type One Diabetes, and told me I had to go to the hospital immediately. I was thinking, "Oh darn, this sucks." My mom was crying and hugging the doctor. I was kinda embarrased, and thought that was an overreaction. I mean, it's not like I had cancer...But I suppose it's harder to hear your kid is going to have a disease for the rest of their lives than hear YOU are. I've never minded it much.
I spent two days in the hospital on an IV. The first night was the worst, because already my body wasn't using food properly, and they didn't let me eat anything. I'd never been that hungry. Then finally they brought me an applesauce cup and a couple crackers at 3 am.
When I was eleven, my Granddaddy passed away from brain cancer. My brother was having problems in his marriage, and his wife was starting to get abusive towards him, and threatening to take the kids. It got really, really bad, but I'm not going into the details.
His wife tried to take the kids one night, and he held their bedroom door shut as she punched him. Before this, he'd been dropping them off at our house in the mornings so we could babysit them while he was at work. That morning, he came wearing sunglasses to hide his black eye from the kids. He moved back in with us for a few years while he got all the divorce papers signed. His ex did everything she could to hurt him, and he ended up broke. His boss stole from him, and stole from everyone else, laying blame on my brother.
For years the kids had nightmares. My nephew would tell me that, "Mommy is a bad girl. She hit my dad and needs a time out." He used to pee in the closet because he was too scared to go out of his room because his mom was out there.
Late 2011, I started to be able to eat corn, wheat, and soy again (though by then I'd developed a ton of other allergies).
In December, my brother's ex refused to give my mom the kids when we went to pick them up, and her, her neighbors, and my mother got into a screaming match. The worst part was that the kids didn't even seem to care. They were used to it.
Last year, in March, I discovered I had gluten intolerance.
She was so bad to my brother, that last year he finally had to give up the kids and ride his motorcycle to Florida. He only had a few hundred dollars, and he had to find a job (he's a boat mechanic) before he ran out. If he couldn't, he was going to join the Navy.
He did finally get a job, but when he came for a few days to get his stuff back, she tried sicking the police on his and threatening him with an arrest warrant if he didn't pay the child support that his ex told him he didn't have to pay.
Late last November, my cat that I'd raised from a kitten a year before died from kidney stones. Less than two weeks later, my Grandmother fell and shattered her shoulder. She passed away two days later.
And to top it all, my little sister says she hates me for things I didn't, and have never done.
But I'm an optimist. :)
Holy shizzsticks. That was longer than I thought it was...
i will paraphase
abuse for 17 yrs of my life
bullied sinse elementry school
struggling with not killing myself, but trying to fight
still have to see that a holes face
Hey guys, especially you nerdlover, I want you to know that I am here if you ever need to talk, ok? *huggles* Please?
Don't worry about it :) it's what was intended.
I have been told I am a lunatic, but I don't think so. If I were a boy it would be normal how much of a risk taker and fighter I am. Until I was ten, my mom didn't get out of bed due to depression and that left me with my daddy, who was to busy drinking to do much else. My mental growth was stunted in some ways, I didn't really speak, because there was no one to listen, I didn't trust anyone, I slept wherever I pleased and ate what I could find. I was a free range kid. It gave me independence and it made me stronger. I growled when I felt threatened and felt more comfortable running on all fours (which I'm a ninja at by the way). I was hurt a lot by other people mainly my father and the teenager down the street, and eventually I trained myself to enjoy the pain which helps in a fight. After I met my best friend, it all changed because I finally had someone I could count on. He grew up in a similar "feral" way like me and we are now pathetically codependent. All of a sudden people realize that we're freaks and try to get us help after we've been heroin addicts since we were thirteen. We don't need help, we are who we are and there is nothing wrong with us. No one has ever looked out for us before, what makes this time different?We sometimes go out to the woods and live in silence for days, hunting, sleeping and eating and that's when I feel my best. The social worker thinks I'm damaged, I think I'm a survivor. I was diagnosed with Schizotypal personality disorder, ASPD, and clinical zoanthropy. They tell me whenever my mind recedes to that of my instincts, or an animal and I run off to the woods, I'm having a psychotic episode. I never have psychotic episodes. I just survive in the way I know best.
Personal Update: I now have an eating disorder. Just perfect.
So here I go.
When I was 7 years old, my neighbor's daughter, a 14 year old girl, sexually abused me. It went on for a long time, months upon months. I didn't tell anyone until she took a pair of my underwear. Then, I told my mom. The police were never informed, and the girl's family ended up moving away. That was that, and nothing was ever done about it.
9 years old. 4th grade. I began cutting myself with blades from pencil sharpeners. I hated myself and couldn't stand that every other girl at school was skinnier than me. All of them, tiny girls with matching twig waists and limbs.
10, going on 11. I met my first "girlfriend" and developed an eating disorder, due to her glamourization of them. I began purging, restricting, and overexercising.
My 11th birthday. My mother informed me that my parents were getting divorced. Previously, I had no idea that anything was wrong. I asked my mother to live with her. It never happened and I am still angry at her to this day about it. She moved out, leaving my dad, brother and I with the house.
My purging got worse. I began purging to fake being sick, and eventually my parents discovered. I was forced to go to a therapist. I hated it, and eventually stopped going, after a few sessions.
I lost about 10 pounds in a matter of 2 months, or so. This was 6th grade. I forced myself to be perfect. Perfect in school, the perfect child, with friends. I kept it all up, built the anger and sadness and fear up inside, until it burst out of me.
I attempted suicide. I made superficial cuts all over my body, and took 130 aspirin pills.
I told my brother, who told my parents, who immediately brought me to the hospital. My mother was angry, my father was sad.
I drank charcoal. Disgusting, probably the worst thing I've ever tasted. It was supposed to be cherry flavored. Nice try, it still tasted like pure dirt with a touch of sewage.
I had my first inpatient psychiatric stay.
In the next two years, I had at least a dozen more suicide attempts, numerous admissions to psychiatric care facilities, and so on. I went in, out, in to hospitals.
I was also sexually abused by my brother. Twice.
Today, I live at an all girls residential facility. I come home on the weekends to my dad's house. In the past few years, he has been my biggest support. Always there. Every admission, countless visits, hugs, sessions, so much love. He is the most important person in the world to me.
I struggle with a lot of things. My discharge is planned for this coming August. My mother and I have a complicated, tense relationship. I hold a lot of anger at her. I no longer desire to live with her, but in the 2 years I did, she never made it happen. She blames it on my dad, for caring, having lawyers, and money, and the house. And she blames it on me for all my visits to the hospital. She is invalidating, fake, and she cares for the wrong reasons. She only wants gains for herself.
I am currently working things out with my brother. We plan to have a session to talk about what happened between him and me. If he is validating, takes responsibility for what he did to me, and tells the truth, about the whole story, I think I might be able to begin rebuilding a relationship with him. Visits to the state hospital he resides at. Passes home to my dad's house with him. My mother is in denial and invalidating what happened between my brother and I, so I do not trust being at her house with him. I have fears that she won't protect me if I need protecting.
I am a girl. I am 13, going on 14. I struggle with food, eating, exercise, body image, my self esteem. I struggle with depression, hopelessness, and suicidal thoughts. I struggle with self harm. I struggle with anxiety, social anxiety and general anxiety. Loneliness and anger. Running away from my problems, and hiding, literally and figuratively.
But my problems do not define me. My struggles are not me. I am not my disorders.
I am Phaedra, and I am getting better.
*hugs Phaedra* Good lord.
I have celiac, it's an extreme case of gluten intolerance. it's hard i've had it for about 3.5 years, i am getting better, like now i can have traces of it from like a knife, but not anymore than that. i have a cow dairy intolerance, but i'm still struggling getting off of cow dairy;) I am always called a Jew at school, and i in fact am not a jew. man is this world anti semetic! 4 years ago one of my great grandma's passed away then that june another of my great grandma's passed away, then thanksgiving 2011 my last great grandma alive died. my mom had a breast cancer scare, thankfully it was non-cancerous and the lump in her breast went away. overall, i do live a pretty good life though. praise Yahweh!:) Oh i also broke my leg 5/1/12 and that was a pretty big adventure to come away from, though my problems aren't near as bad as others on here, like not even close, i'm still posting here:)
1. i'm undiagnosed but sometimes get really depressed
2. i hate myself
3. i don't let people understand me
4. i've been told to kill myself by multiple people on multiple occasions
5. i'm kind of going anorexic... some food makes me feel so sick i don't eat it
6. i've been extremely bullied as to where i've almost attempted / cut
7. just 2 days ago, i learned that some girls in my class took a picture of me in the locker room (before you ask, yes, i was undressed) and sent it on Snapchat. nearly the whole school knows about it, but no punishment has been given. its been reported as sexual harrassment, but i get strange looks from those who saw it. like i freaking knew and consented...
8. been called every name in the book, lesbian (nothing wrong with that, just i'm not), and... finally... (last ones funny)
9. got flipped off by a 6 yr old... lol... he had no idea...
I'm not sure how long this will be but I'll try to make it as short as possible. This past year, there was a rumor spread about me, that I had supposedly done something with this guy, it started on August 16th 2013, the next day on the 17th I made 14 small cuts on my wrist. I woke up feeling numb and just wanted to feel something. Before all this happened I was bullied a lot because I am different, and smart. I would cut but they never left scars like the ones after the rumor did. I'm happy to say that I haven't cut since. Anyways, things got bad. I was being sexually harassed at school and my grades were dropping. I didn't want to live anymore, all I did was cause people pain. I lost friends, I lost myself. On oct. 8th I planned my suicide for oct. 10, I was going to take some pain killers that had been prescribed to me because of an injury that had me in a wheel chair for a while. You can imagine the things that were said to me then.... But I didn't go through with it, I decided to stay. I kept all this from my mom, but one day she found my journal that I had put all my thoughts in and read it. I wasn't mad. It's a good thing she did or I might not be here today. She took me to a shrink, and I was diagnosed with depression on nov. 17th. And was given medication a couple of weeks later to help me control it. Along with that I have anger management issues. I used to punch my bedpost or walls when I got angry, I never hit a person because I don't like hurting people, but a came pretty close sometimes. Things are getting better now, It's still hard to make myself get up in the mornings because I'm scared I might be push over the edge, but I do. Not a day goes by that I don't feel sad, or think about hurting myself again but I push the thoughts away and get on with life. I have new friends, ones who actually care if I live or die. And I see a counselor every Friday. Things are better. People leave me alone and the sexual harassment has stopped. I really don't want to leave, but I can't help the thoughts. Depression runs in my family, my mom has it and I was just the lucky child to get it too. I don't mind. I just have to focus a little more on living than some other people. My grades are better too, and I'm proud to say that I'm number 5 in my class. For those of you going through something like my situation or something like it, please don't give up. It really does get better, it's not just a cliche thing that people say. And if you need to talk to anyone I'm here for you :)
I'm big and tall. Which helps a lot in my basketball career. But off the court all I see is my size 14 waist. I restrict my eating for weeks then pig out and feel like crap. I want to love myself. My boyfriend constantly tells me how beautiful I am but I don't get that message from the sports illustrated models on his phone. I just want to be thin.
I'm gonna paraphrase.
At the age of 13 (back in 2010) I was diagnosed with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis. It affects pretty much every joint in my body. Trying to deal with being diagnosed with a chronic illness and all the pain I was in, I became very depressed and superly anxious (I already had minor anxiety problems before). I was put on arthritis medication and an antidepressant, and for a while was doing better.
Then about a year later I started getting drastically worse again. In addition to joint pain, I also had unexplainable rashes, stomach pains, anemia, and fatigue. None of my medicine appeared to help me anymore. I had no energy or desire to eat and lost about 30 pounds. In truth, I also suffered from some anorexia (I saw nothing wrong with being sickly skinny, and even still imagined sometimes that I had fat rolls on my non-existent stomach). I finally got so bad that I had to spend a week in the hospital in March 2012. I couldn't walk, sit up, or even move out of bed on my own.
While I was in the hospital, my doctors figured out I also have another chronic illness called lupus. They put me on medicine for that too, but the medicine has lots of side effects. It made me gain back the 30 pounds I'd lost, along with 50 extra pounds. I still have issues of self-confidence with my body, which I think are actually worse now. I know that being fat doesn't equate to being unhealthy and that I'm really not very big (size 15). But still, when you go to the store and have to shop in a tiny section labeled plus size (if they even have clothes big enough to fit me at all), it's hard to remember that.
Arthritis and lupus don't have cures. This means I'll have them for the rest of my life. So...yeah. :/