Reefymapuppsett
Greenlighter
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2016
- Messages
- 10
Hello all,
I'm from Sydney Australia. I'm what you would call a social-retard. Always had major anxiety and depression. I was a very emotional child. I have the most vivid memories of my mother telling me how hard she had to resist strangling me to death because she hated me for something I didn't even do. My younger sister used to sneak out of bed at night and I'd let her watch TV or a movie (I was never one for enforcing rules) We were watching some old black & white movie about pirates sailing the open sea, the picture quality was so bad that my sister got a little scared, construing the harmless scene as some kind of monster I suppose ? (some pirate yelling in the rain)
Things like that my mother would preconceive as me tormenting or traumatizing her by purposefully showing her horror movies etc, when my intention was the complete opposite. I just wanted to be the cool brother that wasn't a killjoy. My mother had some kind of chemical imbalance and would switch philosophies and religions from one day to the next. I found it really hard to accept her rules that purely relied on the old "because I said so" reasoning. It was equally frustrating that she imposed her own twisted religious rules upon us.
When I was about 13, my mother had told my whole family that I was molesting my younger sister, which caused a lot of turmoil, not just for me but my whole family looked at me with disgust and were crying and at the time I didn't understand why. At this point I didn't really have a home and stayed with my cousin, lived with a friend and lived in an old car, And eventually lived with my uncle. Though the whole molestation fiasco blew over quite quickly as it was completely unfounded, with the exception of my mothers delusions.
For a child that was already depressed and had an anxiety complex, I didn't take that too well to be accused of such a horrible thing. But instead of sadness I was filled with anger against her, till this day I cannot bring myself to forgive her or stop hating her. Part of that hate stems from how she loved to embarrass me, oblivious to the fact that it was crippling for a child who already felt so low and insecure. On my 12th birthday, she told everyone at the whole party how I used to get erections as an infant. I still remember the moment like it was yesterday- I utterly froze up unable to speak or move I was that terrified of what everyone now thought about me, it was like someone pulled out my guts and just stomped on them. Haunts me to this very day.
My mother also used to use a horsewhip on our legs for punishment usually until in drew blood. I remember I hurt myself while riding my bicycle and she came into my room and I didn't want to show her my injuries, she started slapping me repeatedly. My brother left home at 14 and went to live with our dad. He got to the point where he was big enough to defend himself, not only against our mothers direct abuse but also to protect our dogs that our mother would sometimes abuse for no good reason.
When I was about 15 my aunt and cousin accused me of having demons, And that my cousin (the one who claims to Astro-travel frequently) literally witnessed a manifestation of demons emanating from the neck of my other cousin who I would spend a lot of time with. This accusation led to the family essentially splitting into two sides, and this continued for years. I skipped the part, where I found my escape from this hell (smoking weed) From that day on, chronic was the only way I could see myself living in this world, otherwise I just felt like curling up in a hole and dying.
I became so reliant on weed that I would even steal for it, it was my lifeblood so-to-speak. When I didn't have it I became depressed and angry (generally a total asshole), so much so that my uncle wanted me to leave, And in hindsight I don't blame him. Turns out that long term marijuana usage and anxiety disorders can lead to even worse things, like psychosis- which I developed over the many years I smoked. I then went to the only person that would have me, my father. He was strict, but a good man. He straightened me out, I stopped smoking weed, I got a steady job and eventually got my own place, and I owe it all to my dad.
I managed to hold that job for almost 5 years, but it was a struggle. I was sad, anxious and started drinking heavily until I was a fully blown alcoholic- something my father warned me about years earlier. I had major problems with my teeth, to the point all my top teeth (bar 3) were decayed below the gum-line. Having constant infections and abscesses was a normality and affected my capacity to work. I would eat pain killers like they were M&M's along with alcohol. I had a major fear of the dentist and needles so at that stage I had not seen a dentist or a doctor in 15 years or so. One night I just curled up on the couch with bottle of hot water against my face and told supervisor I can't come in tonight (one of many) and he said the boss won't stand for it, to which I replied "okay then" hung up the phone and continued spiraling downward.
6 months down the track, jobless, roaming the streets at night picking up cigarette butts off footpaths, surviving on $2 of food a week and about to default on my mortgage. The place was an absolute mess. Beer bottles and cartons littered the entire house- I was sleeping on a putrid mattress on the lounge room floor- it was like a scene out of Trainspotting. When I was nearing what I thought was the end of me St,Vincent de paul showed up at my door, two very lovely people who helped me sell the house just before the bank was going to auction it off. They literally saved my life. Due to the time of sale I actually made money off of the house and have been living in much better conditions, however my deep-rooted issues still remain.
Can't believe it has taken me 35 years to see a doctor for help with my mental state. At the moment I am taking Lyrica and Kalma. The Lyrica (although not advertised as a Anti-depressant) makes me feel less depressed. The Kalma has totally eliminated my panic attacks and anxiety induced pain and discomfort. But I am growing fearful that this relief will soon be taken away, as my doctor says it's only short term relief and I had to beg him to give me the last two prescriptions which is only 10 tablets of 500mcg's and 75mg Lyrica.
Kind of a long introduction, but it feels good to get that off my chest.
I'm from Sydney Australia. I'm what you would call a social-retard. Always had major anxiety and depression. I was a very emotional child. I have the most vivid memories of my mother telling me how hard she had to resist strangling me to death because she hated me for something I didn't even do. My younger sister used to sneak out of bed at night and I'd let her watch TV or a movie (I was never one for enforcing rules) We were watching some old black & white movie about pirates sailing the open sea, the picture quality was so bad that my sister got a little scared, construing the harmless scene as some kind of monster I suppose ? (some pirate yelling in the rain)
Things like that my mother would preconceive as me tormenting or traumatizing her by purposefully showing her horror movies etc, when my intention was the complete opposite. I just wanted to be the cool brother that wasn't a killjoy. My mother had some kind of chemical imbalance and would switch philosophies and religions from one day to the next. I found it really hard to accept her rules that purely relied on the old "because I said so" reasoning. It was equally frustrating that she imposed her own twisted religious rules upon us.
When I was about 13, my mother had told my whole family that I was molesting my younger sister, which caused a lot of turmoil, not just for me but my whole family looked at me with disgust and were crying and at the time I didn't understand why. At this point I didn't really have a home and stayed with my cousin, lived with a friend and lived in an old car, And eventually lived with my uncle. Though the whole molestation fiasco blew over quite quickly as it was completely unfounded, with the exception of my mothers delusions.
For a child that was already depressed and had an anxiety complex, I didn't take that too well to be accused of such a horrible thing. But instead of sadness I was filled with anger against her, till this day I cannot bring myself to forgive her or stop hating her. Part of that hate stems from how she loved to embarrass me, oblivious to the fact that it was crippling for a child who already felt so low and insecure. On my 12th birthday, she told everyone at the whole party how I used to get erections as an infant. I still remember the moment like it was yesterday- I utterly froze up unable to speak or move I was that terrified of what everyone now thought about me, it was like someone pulled out my guts and just stomped on them. Haunts me to this very day.
My mother also used to use a horsewhip on our legs for punishment usually until in drew blood. I remember I hurt myself while riding my bicycle and she came into my room and I didn't want to show her my injuries, she started slapping me repeatedly. My brother left home at 14 and went to live with our dad. He got to the point where he was big enough to defend himself, not only against our mothers direct abuse but also to protect our dogs that our mother would sometimes abuse for no good reason.
When I was about 15 my aunt and cousin accused me of having demons, And that my cousin (the one who claims to Astro-travel frequently) literally witnessed a manifestation of demons emanating from the neck of my other cousin who I would spend a lot of time with. This accusation led to the family essentially splitting into two sides, and this continued for years. I skipped the part, where I found my escape from this hell (smoking weed) From that day on, chronic was the only way I could see myself living in this world, otherwise I just felt like curling up in a hole and dying.
I became so reliant on weed that I would even steal for it, it was my lifeblood so-to-speak. When I didn't have it I became depressed and angry (generally a total asshole), so much so that my uncle wanted me to leave, And in hindsight I don't blame him. Turns out that long term marijuana usage and anxiety disorders can lead to even worse things, like psychosis- which I developed over the many years I smoked. I then went to the only person that would have me, my father. He was strict, but a good man. He straightened me out, I stopped smoking weed, I got a steady job and eventually got my own place, and I owe it all to my dad.
I managed to hold that job for almost 5 years, but it was a struggle. I was sad, anxious and started drinking heavily until I was a fully blown alcoholic- something my father warned me about years earlier. I had major problems with my teeth, to the point all my top teeth (bar 3) were decayed below the gum-line. Having constant infections and abscesses was a normality and affected my capacity to work. I would eat pain killers like they were M&M's along with alcohol. I had a major fear of the dentist and needles so at that stage I had not seen a dentist or a doctor in 15 years or so. One night I just curled up on the couch with bottle of hot water against my face and told supervisor I can't come in tonight (one of many) and he said the boss won't stand for it, to which I replied "okay then" hung up the phone and continued spiraling downward.
6 months down the track, jobless, roaming the streets at night picking up cigarette butts off footpaths, surviving on $2 of food a week and about to default on my mortgage. The place was an absolute mess. Beer bottles and cartons littered the entire house- I was sleeping on a putrid mattress on the lounge room floor- it was like a scene out of Trainspotting. When I was nearing what I thought was the end of me St,Vincent de paul showed up at my door, two very lovely people who helped me sell the house just before the bank was going to auction it off. They literally saved my life. Due to the time of sale I actually made money off of the house and have been living in much better conditions, however my deep-rooted issues still remain.
Can't believe it has taken me 35 years to see a doctor for help with my mental state. At the moment I am taking Lyrica and Kalma. The Lyrica (although not advertised as a Anti-depressant) makes me feel less depressed. The Kalma has totally eliminated my panic attacks and anxiety induced pain and discomfort. But I am growing fearful that this relief will soon be taken away, as my doctor says it's only short term relief and I had to beg him to give me the last two prescriptions which is only 10 tablets of 500mcg's and 75mg Lyrica.
Kind of a long introduction, but it feels good to get that off my chest.
