I am brand new to this site. Brand new. This is my first post.
Happened to stumble across seppuku’s comment about being the golden child. I can relate, too. Growing up, I was successful at everything I tried. Now, I am worthless in the eyes of my parents and older siblings.
I am almost 34. I am female. Married. Clinical Depression. Tried ECT. Tried everything it would seem. The only thing that worked for me was 425mg of Effexor combined with the lowest dose of methylphenidate (a form of ritalin), but then the night terrors started where I would put out three changes of clothes a night, and wrap myself in towels to sleep.
There are successful people out there who don’t deserve it. It bothers me because I try so hard. It is unfair, but it is life.
My father asked me where he went so wrong with me? I was practically Valedictorian of my high school, and got into a great college, but I was raped the first semester, and took medical leave. I never went back.
Now I am 33, jobless because no one wants to hire someone who has been out of work for so long laying in bed with depression. Rape at that age stops your growth. It took lots of therapy and I am just now starting to grow out of that adolescent stage.
It’s hard for people to understand when they can’t physically see your disease.
My family doesn’t get it. My brother gave me a concussion a few years back when he was drunk. He said, “You were raped, that was a long time ago. Get over it.” He happened to be a senior when I was a freshman at the same university, so maybe he has been holding all this in, and it just exploded on me, but no one said anything to him.
I’m the “bad guy” in my family because I can’t get my act together. It’s depression. I don’t know what they want me to do about it. It’s like they have conditional love for me. I learned this from the therapist. They love me when and if I act a certain way or am a certain way. I am not perfect, therefore I am not loved.
My family is very ….ummmmm…..let’s such say rigid. They have high expectations. I haven’t met their expectations; I am only an embarrassment to them.
Just tonight, I was looking up peaceful ways to die, and thinking about my Great Uncle Jimmy who had throat cancer, and died at the age of 92 on his late wife’s birthday. I wondered if it was true love, and God had stepped in, but I now I think the doctor must have given him something, like what they use to euthanize animals. I think it’s called ********. Either way, it is sweet he died on his late wife’s birthday whether it was fate or if the doctor helped. If you’re 92 and in that much pain….*sigh*
I’m glad I found this site. I need some support. I can pin-point exactly when life started going to shit (the college rape). It ruined my life. No, no. It did. The doctors tell me I was predisposed for depression and that it was the trigger.
I laid in bed for ten years. Imagine what that does to the body.
I am trying so hard now to recover, but I’m not getting anywhere. I’ve sent out a zillion resumes, and no one will hire me. I’m trying to live. Honestly I am. I feel so alone.
I am prior Air Force. I come from an Air Force family. My older siblings are successful in the Air Force. I wasn’t.
I married an active duty Marine I had only known for a year, and part of that year he was deployed. We have been married for two years now. He’s in North Carolina, and I have moved to New Orleans. I have been here for two months now.
I had to do something drastic because I was becoming so codependent on him to get me food, just keep me alive, etc. I was barely getting out of bed. Plus, we’ve moved every year since I’ve known him. That’s three years of moving every year. It’s kind of hard to make friends when you are constantly moving, too.
I thought, by coming to New Orleans (where I lived for 8 years prior to marrying him) I could fight my depression better by having to do everything on my own. I was wrong. My depression is worse.
I need help. I know I can go to the VA as they have me 70% disabled for mental health. My psychiatrist put me back on the Effexor a month ago, but I haven’t taken it. I forgot about the night terrors I had before. I forgot to tell her about them, so I don’t want to take it. I’m not sure it was the Effexor giving me the night terrors, but I am scared to risk it.
It’s saddening knowing I have tried almost every drug out there and even ECT and still feel this way, and now moving and being completely on my own wasn’t the smartest idea. I have $600 in my bank account. Yep.
My husband and I are losing touch since all I do is ***** at how awful I feel when I get to FaceTime with him, too.
How did life turn out this way? I had it all figured out in school. I wish I could go back and change things. I wish things could be different. I want to start life over with all the knowledge I have gained over the years.
What I have learned about being on your own is that people will screw you over. I used to trust before trust was earned. Now I just look around and instead of seeing people I can help and who are probably hurting just like me, I see mean, cruel people who would do anything just to help themselves. I noticed myself thinking that when I was at Walmart last month. I thought to myself, “This isn’t like to me to think like this.” It was like an epiphany. I knew I had changed inside.
Oh, and don’t try suicide. It doesn’t work. Unless you have the proper tools, like a doctor to help you, it’s pointless. You will fail, and when you wake up three days later, you’ll be even more depressed and locked in a hospital, and when your family won’t acknowledge it (or anything), and your husband forgets how depressed you are and just will never know what you’re going through…..okay now I’m just ranting.