Okay so this is gonna be pretty long and pretty odd of a story but first let me introduce myself. I am an 18 year old male diagnosed with depression and anxiety as well as PTSD. The depression runs in my family and has taken a severe toll on my mental well being as well as the anxiety.
Let me start from the beggining, when I was about 7 my Dad was diagnosed with Lymes disease, lupus, neuropathy, and he had an aneurysm in his aortic valve. When this happened I barely understood being that I was so young but as I grew up I realized just how badly it was taking an effect on him. I was in 6th grade that was the first time I remember ever being depressed I was into the whole emo thing and listened to dark depressing music and dressed in all black and eventually grew out of that in 8th grade. I eventually started to feel less depressed when I was 14 but I started smoking cigarettes as a vice. At 14 my Dad was hooked on prescription meds (oxycodone, hydrocodone, oxycontin, klonopin, etc.) he got them from all of the illnesses he had. He would be prescribed 60/month and the bottle would be empty by the first week. He popped pills like a mad man. I always remember him full of energy (cleaning, overly talkative, sweating bullets) or he was always out of energy (falling asleep at dinner, complaining about pain,) he was just always fucked up. By the age of 15 my Mom had enough and divorced him because of his pill use. He was emotionally abusing us but never physically abusing us. But my Mom had to get out so we went to live w my Grandparents.
I love my grandparents but living w them was some of the worst years of my life. They were soooo controlling and just questioned everything I did and made me feel shitty for a lot of my problems. During this time my parents were going through a divorce and my Dad was losing his fuckin mind man. Literally losing his shit. He started doing meth and all sorts of drugs and calling us all hours of the night blasted out of his mind but before all this I went to see him one weekend to stay w him. He kept me awake for 48 hours... We went to walmart at 3am I think he was methed out I dunno but he was talking gibberish asking me If I wanted to bang strippers (keep in mind I am 15) and just overall, not the Dad I knew when I was younger. My dad told me he would kill himself if I left after that weekend so I tried to stay but Mom had the police take me away. And supposedly (I say supposedly because I have no recollection of doing this) I ran out of the house me and mom were at and tried to run back to my dads house. I was just so afraid he would hurt himself. Weeks passed and things started getting better until the dreaded day of January 19, 2012 I was asleep and mom got a phone call from my uncle telling us my Dad had passed away. Mom was up all night crying. He had swallowed a whole bottle of Klonopin and died on the way to the ER. When I awoke that morning I found all my family in my house to tell me the news and I cried for hours and I couldn't eat a thing.. I prepared for a funeral and saw my Father's lifeless body in a casket. To see something like that at 15 you just don't forget it and it haunts me to this day.
The rest of this is about what happened to me afterwards..
Shortly after all this 3 months later I stopped eating completely only a couple crackers per day and water. I was obsessed with losing weight known as a mental illness call anorexia nervosa at my lowest I weighed 107 lbs at 6'0 tall. I didn't realize what I was doing to my body nor did I really care at the time. I was consumed by my Father's death that I had to be obsessed with something. Something that could kill me. My Mom was so distraught during this time, losing her husband, slowly losing me, my home became the epitome of pure darkness and sadness. After being hospitalized for a bpm of 28 while I was sleeping(very close to death) I realized I had to start eating or I was gonna fuckin die and I could not do that to my mother. She had already been through so much. Today I sit at 140lbs and 6'0 tall. But since I had recovered sort of I had to find a new obsession of course. Which is when I found marijuana. I remember it plainly I was 17 a month from 18 and smoked my first blunt in over 3 years I immediately loved it and found my new addiction.. I smoked everyday for about 7 months blowing all my money on marijuana but smoking weed wasn't enough I moved on to mushrooms, lsd, and later on cocaine. Mushrooms my first time were amazing I felt so alive. More than ever before and lsd was the same way. But my second time using mushrooms I had my first ever panic attack and I mean omg I thought I was going to die right there I freaked out everyone and told my mom everything I had ever done and ever since that shroom trip I have had panic attacks while sober. Whenever I begin to feel off or just a bit different I fucking panic. I begin to think I'm dying and it just feels so real.
Today I sit here typing this while I'm on vacation in Florida supposed to be enjoying myself but I can't because I am fueled by anxiety and depression. So depressed I can barely feel anything else. I check my heart throughout the day just to make sure I'm alive. I have had a pain in my chest for over two weeks that has been scaring me to death to where it keeps me up at night. I control my breathing a lot of the time and I just feel like I'm losing myself. I really need advice... I'm obsessed with the idea of my own death. It fuckin terrifies me to where I can't even focus on me being alive. I just need help before I go nuts.
Any advice would be numerously appreciated.
Thank you all if you read my story.
Peace&love
-kyl
Let me start from the beggining, when I was about 7 my Dad was diagnosed with Lymes disease, lupus, neuropathy, and he had an aneurysm in his aortic valve. When this happened I barely understood being that I was so young but as I grew up I realized just how badly it was taking an effect on him. I was in 6th grade that was the first time I remember ever being depressed I was into the whole emo thing and listened to dark depressing music and dressed in all black and eventually grew out of that in 8th grade. I eventually started to feel less depressed when I was 14 but I started smoking cigarettes as a vice. At 14 my Dad was hooked on prescription meds (oxycodone, hydrocodone, oxycontin, klonopin, etc.) he got them from all of the illnesses he had. He would be prescribed 60/month and the bottle would be empty by the first week. He popped pills like a mad man. I always remember him full of energy (cleaning, overly talkative, sweating bullets) or he was always out of energy (falling asleep at dinner, complaining about pain,) he was just always fucked up. By the age of 15 my Mom had enough and divorced him because of his pill use. He was emotionally abusing us but never physically abusing us. But my Mom had to get out so we went to live w my Grandparents.
I love my grandparents but living w them was some of the worst years of my life. They were soooo controlling and just questioned everything I did and made me feel shitty for a lot of my problems. During this time my parents were going through a divorce and my Dad was losing his fuckin mind man. Literally losing his shit. He started doing meth and all sorts of drugs and calling us all hours of the night blasted out of his mind but before all this I went to see him one weekend to stay w him. He kept me awake for 48 hours... We went to walmart at 3am I think he was methed out I dunno but he was talking gibberish asking me If I wanted to bang strippers (keep in mind I am 15) and just overall, not the Dad I knew when I was younger. My dad told me he would kill himself if I left after that weekend so I tried to stay but Mom had the police take me away. And supposedly (I say supposedly because I have no recollection of doing this) I ran out of the house me and mom were at and tried to run back to my dads house. I was just so afraid he would hurt himself. Weeks passed and things started getting better until the dreaded day of January 19, 2012 I was asleep and mom got a phone call from my uncle telling us my Dad had passed away. Mom was up all night crying. He had swallowed a whole bottle of Klonopin and died on the way to the ER. When I awoke that morning I found all my family in my house to tell me the news and I cried for hours and I couldn't eat a thing.. I prepared for a funeral and saw my Father's lifeless body in a casket. To see something like that at 15 you just don't forget it and it haunts me to this day.
The rest of this is about what happened to me afterwards..
Shortly after all this 3 months later I stopped eating completely only a couple crackers per day and water. I was obsessed with losing weight known as a mental illness call anorexia nervosa at my lowest I weighed 107 lbs at 6'0 tall. I didn't realize what I was doing to my body nor did I really care at the time. I was consumed by my Father's death that I had to be obsessed with something. Something that could kill me. My Mom was so distraught during this time, losing her husband, slowly losing me, my home became the epitome of pure darkness and sadness. After being hospitalized for a bpm of 28 while I was sleeping(very close to death) I realized I had to start eating or I was gonna fuckin die and I could not do that to my mother. She had already been through so much. Today I sit at 140lbs and 6'0 tall. But since I had recovered sort of I had to find a new obsession of course. Which is when I found marijuana. I remember it plainly I was 17 a month from 18 and smoked my first blunt in over 3 years I immediately loved it and found my new addiction.. I smoked everyday for about 7 months blowing all my money on marijuana but smoking weed wasn't enough I moved on to mushrooms, lsd, and later on cocaine. Mushrooms my first time were amazing I felt so alive. More than ever before and lsd was the same way. But my second time using mushrooms I had my first ever panic attack and I mean omg I thought I was going to die right there I freaked out everyone and told my mom everything I had ever done and ever since that shroom trip I have had panic attacks while sober. Whenever I begin to feel off or just a bit different I fucking panic. I begin to think I'm dying and it just feels so real.
Today I sit here typing this while I'm on vacation in Florida supposed to be enjoying myself but I can't because I am fueled by anxiety and depression. So depressed I can barely feel anything else. I check my heart throughout the day just to make sure I'm alive. I have had a pain in my chest for over two weeks that has been scaring me to death to where it keeps me up at night. I control my breathing a lot of the time and I just feel like I'm losing myself. I really need advice... I'm obsessed with the idea of my own death. It fuckin terrifies me to where I can't even focus on me being alive. I just need help before I go nuts.
Any advice would be numerously appreciated.
Thank you all if you read my story.
Peace&love
-kyl
