VioletTears
Well-known member
Hi, I'm new here. I am going to the psychiatrist for the first time in a month and am suspecting that I will be diagnosed with AP, perhaps along with some other things...
For as far back as I can remember I have felt that I was different than other people... and I guess also that I was inferior to other people. When I was about 3-years-old I was diagnosed with selective mutism. For those who don't know, selective mutism is an extreme social phobia, generally exhibited in children, in which a child will only talk in the presence of close family. I still remember sitting off to the side, watching the other children play but being too affraid to join in. As I grew older I gradually found my voice, but the anxiety remained. Looking back at my childhood, even my highschool years, I remember the discomfort of being alone, of being affraid to communicate, of feeling different... When I was five I broke my arm and wouldn't cry or admit that it hurt, because it was simply too hard for me to talk about my pain. I was taken to the doctor because of how stiff my posture was and diagnosed with a break... In first grade my only friend was a girl with mental retardation. I never minded her disability, because she accepted me, although I always envied the other girls. Elementary school was okay after that because I always had at least one person who befriended me, but once I was in middle school/highschool things were harder. I remember being in classes where I didn't have a single friend and at lunch I often found myself eating alone. I also remember being invited to eat with people, but feeling too dumb to join their conversations... Even if I had something to contribute, I thought that if I opened my mouth they would all just be like, "wow, the quiet girl talked" so I kept quiet. I had a few friends scattered throughout my school years, but never many. It was humiliating to me, but I was too fearful to reach out to others.
Then in highschool I learned that a guy liked me... I had never really interested myself in guys before that... I guess I just assumed none of them would be interested in me, so there was no point... But once I learned that he wanted me, I was head over heals... He ended up asking me out and I accepted. It made me feel like I was someone, and I clung to the idea of being loved... But he was young and stupid... I weighed 102 lbs but he would pick at me and say I was fat, he would make comments about other girls... I became terrified that he would decide I wasn't good enough and dump me and I would be alone once again, and everyone would know that I wasn't good enough to hold onto. So I tried becoming what he wanted, but it never felt like enough... It was then that I spiraled into my first major depression. One day I cut myself, just a tiny little cut on my wrist close to the vein, just to know what it might be like to kill myself... When my boyfriend discovered the cut he was so angry, but for the first time, I felt heard, like he understood my pain. Soon cutting became my primary form of communication. It also became an addiction. I would use my blood to write death poetry. I would also write about my pain, though always in a very non-direct way... Cutting and writing were far easier than talking. He would read the things I would write in my journal and then he would promise to stop hurting me... But it took a long time before either of us really stopped hurting the other. I didn't want to acknowledge at the time how manipulative I was, but I now realize how wrong my actions were, too, it was just the only thing I felt capable of... And I hurt so deeply that it was hard to see beyond that.
During this time I also went from seeming like a little girl (I thought that I could best please my parents by staying childlike) to dressing provacatively... It always made me uncomfortable when I attracted attention from other guys and I never pursued other relationships... But at the same time, it made me feel a little more desirable and worthy of being loved. I was insanely jealous of other girls and very fearful of being left. I also surrounded myself in darkness, became Wiccan (actually a beautiful religion, but I was probably doing it largely for the wrong reasons), dyed my hair black, dressed in black... I guess it gave me a sense of power, just a little, to pretend that I was alone because I WANTED to shut the world out... Really I felt fearful and alone. I spent long periods of time locked away in my room, doing nothing but crying.
I ended up going to college because it was what my parents expected. I was obsessive about being perfect and had close to a 4.0 grade point average when I graduated. I got my BA in Early Childhood Education. I was drawn to working with young kids because I didn't feel judged by them in the way that I felt judged by adults. In fact, children generally adored me. It was all good, except that in teaching there are always other staff, supervisors and parents to deal with and this has always been a huge source of anxiety for me. I can interview great in spite of my anxiety because I know what to say (interviews are one of the few times I do, small talk is really hard for me), but once I'm accepted into the loop, I'm so affraid of disapointing people that I stumble... I am horrible at small talk, I constantly loose my train of thought, I just feel incompetant...
I married my highschool sweetheart, I guess out of fear/lonliness in a way, but we both did a lot of growing up. Still, when we do have problems, I rarely confront them... I just sort of retreat. Conflict is really hard for me. I got a job working with abused/stressed preschoolers... It's good for me in a way, because I relate to their pain, but I struggle with other aspects of the job... I always feel looked down upon by other teachers, even though they give me no real indication of that. I struggle to concentrate, I am forgetful, I have a hard time organizing myself to do office work... Lately I have also started having panic attacks. I am very paranoid that people will figure out that I'm crazy and will look down on me even more... I actually left work early on Friday because I was dizzy and then spent the entire weekend worrying that everybody probably knows that the dizziness was caused by anxiety... That they probably talked about it at the meeting, like oh, have you noticed this and this and this about her??? People are nice to me, probably because I'm very polite and do my best to be nice to others (and of course, I pretty much never disagree, lol), but they must be able to tell that something is off...
We also had a child, a precious little boy who is now 19 months old. He was and is my life. I guess all the stresses of everything just caved in on me. Last fall I fell into a deep depression once again that lasted through the winter. I feel like my son was the only thing keeping me from taking my life... I really do love him more than I love myself and I could never hurt him like that. But every day has been a struggle. With spring I felt a sense of renewal, but even then I went to sleep thinking of death each night... And now, well, things are just not good... Which is why I finally caved and made an appointment... although I'm very worried that I'll forget everything I am meaning to say. It always sounds so good in my head but when I go to tell someone I just stutter and the words get stuck.
Sorry, I am writing way too much, probably at the same time never enough... I am also worried because my brother has schizophrenia and I clearly have some risk factors... Although as of yet, I have never had and delusions/halucinations.
Anyways, I'm thinking that maybe here people can relate to some of this?
For as far back as I can remember I have felt that I was different than other people... and I guess also that I was inferior to other people. When I was about 3-years-old I was diagnosed with selective mutism. For those who don't know, selective mutism is an extreme social phobia, generally exhibited in children, in which a child will only talk in the presence of close family. I still remember sitting off to the side, watching the other children play but being too affraid to join in. As I grew older I gradually found my voice, but the anxiety remained. Looking back at my childhood, even my highschool years, I remember the discomfort of being alone, of being affraid to communicate, of feeling different... When I was five I broke my arm and wouldn't cry or admit that it hurt, because it was simply too hard for me to talk about my pain. I was taken to the doctor because of how stiff my posture was and diagnosed with a break... In first grade my only friend was a girl with mental retardation. I never minded her disability, because she accepted me, although I always envied the other girls. Elementary school was okay after that because I always had at least one person who befriended me, but once I was in middle school/highschool things were harder. I remember being in classes where I didn't have a single friend and at lunch I often found myself eating alone. I also remember being invited to eat with people, but feeling too dumb to join their conversations... Even if I had something to contribute, I thought that if I opened my mouth they would all just be like, "wow, the quiet girl talked" so I kept quiet. I had a few friends scattered throughout my school years, but never many. It was humiliating to me, but I was too fearful to reach out to others.
Then in highschool I learned that a guy liked me... I had never really interested myself in guys before that... I guess I just assumed none of them would be interested in me, so there was no point... But once I learned that he wanted me, I was head over heals... He ended up asking me out and I accepted. It made me feel like I was someone, and I clung to the idea of being loved... But he was young and stupid... I weighed 102 lbs but he would pick at me and say I was fat, he would make comments about other girls... I became terrified that he would decide I wasn't good enough and dump me and I would be alone once again, and everyone would know that I wasn't good enough to hold onto. So I tried becoming what he wanted, but it never felt like enough... It was then that I spiraled into my first major depression. One day I cut myself, just a tiny little cut on my wrist close to the vein, just to know what it might be like to kill myself... When my boyfriend discovered the cut he was so angry, but for the first time, I felt heard, like he understood my pain. Soon cutting became my primary form of communication. It also became an addiction. I would use my blood to write death poetry. I would also write about my pain, though always in a very non-direct way... Cutting and writing were far easier than talking. He would read the things I would write in my journal and then he would promise to stop hurting me... But it took a long time before either of us really stopped hurting the other. I didn't want to acknowledge at the time how manipulative I was, but I now realize how wrong my actions were, too, it was just the only thing I felt capable of... And I hurt so deeply that it was hard to see beyond that.
During this time I also went from seeming like a little girl (I thought that I could best please my parents by staying childlike) to dressing provacatively... It always made me uncomfortable when I attracted attention from other guys and I never pursued other relationships... But at the same time, it made me feel a little more desirable and worthy of being loved. I was insanely jealous of other girls and very fearful of being left. I also surrounded myself in darkness, became Wiccan (actually a beautiful religion, but I was probably doing it largely for the wrong reasons), dyed my hair black, dressed in black... I guess it gave me a sense of power, just a little, to pretend that I was alone because I WANTED to shut the world out... Really I felt fearful and alone. I spent long periods of time locked away in my room, doing nothing but crying.
I ended up going to college because it was what my parents expected. I was obsessive about being perfect and had close to a 4.0 grade point average when I graduated. I got my BA in Early Childhood Education. I was drawn to working with young kids because I didn't feel judged by them in the way that I felt judged by adults. In fact, children generally adored me. It was all good, except that in teaching there are always other staff, supervisors and parents to deal with and this has always been a huge source of anxiety for me. I can interview great in spite of my anxiety because I know what to say (interviews are one of the few times I do, small talk is really hard for me), but once I'm accepted into the loop, I'm so affraid of disapointing people that I stumble... I am horrible at small talk, I constantly loose my train of thought, I just feel incompetant...
I married my highschool sweetheart, I guess out of fear/lonliness in a way, but we both did a lot of growing up. Still, when we do have problems, I rarely confront them... I just sort of retreat. Conflict is really hard for me. I got a job working with abused/stressed preschoolers... It's good for me in a way, because I relate to their pain, but I struggle with other aspects of the job... I always feel looked down upon by other teachers, even though they give me no real indication of that. I struggle to concentrate, I am forgetful, I have a hard time organizing myself to do office work... Lately I have also started having panic attacks. I am very paranoid that people will figure out that I'm crazy and will look down on me even more... I actually left work early on Friday because I was dizzy and then spent the entire weekend worrying that everybody probably knows that the dizziness was caused by anxiety... That they probably talked about it at the meeting, like oh, have you noticed this and this and this about her??? People are nice to me, probably because I'm very polite and do my best to be nice to others (and of course, I pretty much never disagree, lol), but they must be able to tell that something is off...
We also had a child, a precious little boy who is now 19 months old. He was and is my life. I guess all the stresses of everything just caved in on me. Last fall I fell into a deep depression once again that lasted through the winter. I feel like my son was the only thing keeping me from taking my life... I really do love him more than I love myself and I could never hurt him like that. But every day has been a struggle. With spring I felt a sense of renewal, but even then I went to sleep thinking of death each night... And now, well, things are just not good... Which is why I finally caved and made an appointment... although I'm very worried that I'll forget everything I am meaning to say. It always sounds so good in my head but when I go to tell someone I just stutter and the words get stuck.
Sorry, I am writing way too much, probably at the same time never enough... I am also worried because my brother has schizophrenia and I clearly have some risk factors... Although as of yet, I have never had and delusions/halucinations.
Anyways, I'm thinking that maybe here people can relate to some of this?
