Aletheia
Well-known member
My first response to finding this board was: OMG, why didn't I think to look for it earlier? But I know why. It's taken me longer to accept my avoidant diagnosis than my bipolar one because I'm more ashamed of it, and that's saying something.
I've been depressed since primary school, but anxious for as long as I can remember. I've always felt defective and out of my depth. I've never known the right thing to say or the right thing to do. I'm hyper hyper sensitive to criticism and so afraid of making mistakes that I end up doing nothing at all.
The horrors of school did teach me to build a façade of competence, and by my twenties I had what looked from the outside to be a successful life. But I was suffering massive imposter syndrome, paralysed by indecision, suicidal and unable to eat or sleep for fretting. I couldn't hold it together, and eventually it all fell apart, rather dramatically. Try as I might, I've been unable to pick up the pieces, not least because I can't bear to go back there.
I'm not agoraphobic per se. Inane chit-chat with storekeepers I can manage. But I've cut myself off from deeper contact with the outside world because I find the inevitable question, “So what do you do?” so agonizing. Which leaves me terribly lonely.
I had been attending a bipolar support group, but it was filled with people with jobs and families, and in the end only made me feel worse. I told my doctors and therapists that what I really needed was a safe space for people like me and got blank stares all round. I know I'm a loser but am I really such a freak?
Forgive me if it's inappropriate to dump my life story on a bunch of strangers; it's all come pouring out (and I'm usually such a lurker). Please don't throw me out for having dual diagnoses. It really has been the anxiety that I've found most disabling.
I've been depressed since primary school, but anxious for as long as I can remember. I've always felt defective and out of my depth. I've never known the right thing to say or the right thing to do. I'm hyper hyper sensitive to criticism and so afraid of making mistakes that I end up doing nothing at all.
The horrors of school did teach me to build a façade of competence, and by my twenties I had what looked from the outside to be a successful life. But I was suffering massive imposter syndrome, paralysed by indecision, suicidal and unable to eat or sleep for fretting. I couldn't hold it together, and eventually it all fell apart, rather dramatically. Try as I might, I've been unable to pick up the pieces, not least because I can't bear to go back there.
I'm not agoraphobic per se. Inane chit-chat with storekeepers I can manage. But I've cut myself off from deeper contact with the outside world because I find the inevitable question, “So what do you do?” so agonizing. Which leaves me terribly lonely.
I had been attending a bipolar support group, but it was filled with people with jobs and families, and in the end only made me feel worse. I told my doctors and therapists that what I really needed was a safe space for people like me and got blank stares all round. I know I'm a loser but am I really such a freak?
Forgive me if it's inappropriate to dump my life story on a bunch of strangers; it's all come pouring out (and I'm usually such a lurker). Please don't throw me out for having dual diagnoses. It really has been the anxiety that I've found most disabling.