Mental Health Support Thread (NOT for giving medical advice, or debating)

Ah, I forgot. This thread classifies dangerous misinformation as "support" and correcting misinformation as "not support."

 

How predictably liberal or you. Im not even going to bother continuing this discussion.

 

Yes?

 

@KaTrian pulled this up again, so I thought I bring up that I notice you are now both seeing a doctor for your anxiety, and getting some meds. I hope you're finding that constructive.

 

Of*

 

Not gonna lie, the meds definitely are helping me.

 

I know. Meet the real you.

 

I like him already!

 

Embrace yourself!

 

After being clean for a year, today I finally gave in and took anxiety meds. My mental issues have always been a bump in my road to writing, but this past 2 weeks have been specially rough. The lack of feedback (both positive and negative) put me in a constant state of self-doubt, compulsively editing as never before, considering giving up on my story, not getting enough sleep, getting caught up in convoluted plot devices, and now it's like... sudden calmness. My mind is clearer and I can finally sit down to write without haste.

This may seem like an overreaction to everyone else here, but my stories are my life. Literally. Nothing else going on can motivate me as much as writing. I was in a really bad place both physically and mentally before I decided to take on writing again, and then my health got considerably better. Of course this all depends on my bad days and good days.

I wish I were on pills all the time, but wouldn't that feel like cheating?

 

Why would it? Are diabetics cheating when they take insulin? Are cancer patients cheating with chemotherapy?

 

Good point. Although I'm worried about this widespread idea that drugs (legal or ilegal) make you perform better as a writer/musician/artist.

 

Well, citalopram helps me be a better writer... because it allows me to write rather than rock back and forth in a ball thinking about what a terrible person I am for, you know, existing.

Insulin also helps me be a better writer by stopping me from dying within the next 24 hours.

I'm not a cheat. Nor are you, if you need medicines to correct a symptom.

 

I used to take that one. It made me stay in bed all day, with no motivation to write (it's actually the longest I've been without writing: an entire year). But hey, different bodies, right? *shrugs*

And anyway, I can't cope with the side effects of most meds, given that my job requires 500% focus. I'm trying to find a balance between taking as little drugs as possible and making lifestyle changes.

Thank you. I really needed to hear those words today

 

I hear you. My best friend couldn't deal with citalopram at all. My friend in university felt *nothing* when she was on it--she just didn't care about anything, even getting her degree. For me, it's been perfect. I'm very lucky.

 

I know that feel oddly enough lol

 

New whinge for today...

I beta read a novel for an author (not from WritingForums). It was a good novel, I enjoyed it, it took me maybe 4-5 hours to read, make my comments, and then summarise my thoughts. I learned from it, as always, and was glad I'd agreed to it.

She sent me a $25 Amazon gift card to my email. I couldn't accept, because of all the beta reads I've given and received there's never been an exchange of money and I felt like maybe she's new to it and doesn't know that authors do this for each other for free. As she's a virtual stranger I have no idea what her financial situation is like and how much $25 means to her.

I spoke to Amazon and they refunded the money back to her, and now I feel rude and mean for refusing a gift which I'm sure is against all kinds of etiquette.

I would've felt awful to take it. I feel awful having rejected it. I can't win with anxiety.

 

Been feeling unusually crappy lately. Just self-harm and suicidal ideations constantly and had dreams dealing with death, like last night it was the days up to my execution and the horror and hopelessness that come with such things.

I don't really want to hurt myself. I just want to bleed.

 

Sorry about the length. I started off small and felt like I just really wanted to get this off my chest. Maybe it'll help me get out of my funk. I'm putting it in spoilers to not take space on the thread.

Spoiler: Just Couldn't Stop Writing

When I was fifteen I had a bit of a mental breakdown. I was molested when I was 3 or 4, beaten badly until I was nine, beaten more until I was 12, verbally attacked and degraded, and the whole sha'bang. Needless to say, it was pretty fucked up growing up. I went from being beat to not being beat even when I pushed on the boundaries. When you go from backtalking results in a backhand to running your mouth means go to your room... you become a bit of a dick. So, I was medicated. I became a zombie from what I hear. Listless, eyes dull, not a care in the world, sluggish, apathetic, and all that. Thing is? My coping mechanism for the abuse was this hollow little place inside of me where none of it mattered where I felt none of it where none of it existed. I guess the well level went down and it got brought to the surface. At fifteen, off the meds, I just had a breakdown. It was pretty bad. I had to go away for a week. Funny thing is, it was just a breakdown. Soon as i woke up I was fine, followed all the rules and got out. I could of run that place, really.

So why did I have the breakdown? I had always felt worthless as a human being. Even though I had some close friends I always felt alone. I ran away from my problems as much as I could. I remember one night where I sped off on my bike and hid under a bridge while it rained. Crying, huddling against the cold, in an area where I knew water moccassins called home. I didn't care and I never have.

When I was younger my mom married a guy named Sean. He was probably the best thing in my life for a while. He was a great father to me. The problem? He was a mine sweeper in the Gulf War. He was a heavy alcoholic. I didn't see the piss on the bed, stumbling in breaking plates, or the huge fights. I doubt I would of understood it anyway. Needless to say she divorced him. That hurt. What hurt worse though was he committed suicide shortly after.

I never shed a tear, my mom took me to a bunch of therapists but I just manipulated them to give me the A'OK quickly. It all blew up one night, tends to be the pattern, when my mom didn't come home when she was suppose to (yes I would watch myself sometimes. I was an intelligent and capable child). I flipped out, ripping the door open, running all around screaming for her. I called everyone including the police. When she came back I didn't even remember anything until a few days later. She was having a hard time emotionally too, so she brokedown and cried all night. I didn't get hit for weeks after that one. It toned down a lot too.

Around 19 I pretty much got over all of my baggage. Things were still tense with my mom, but it was just more of a distance that's hard to broach. Hard to hug one of the people who beat you most of your life. I forgave, but I didn't forget. I had decided at 17 to skip college. All I wanted was to get away and experience new situations. I wanted to travel the world and just be free for once. Free to make my own decisions, free to make my own mistakes, free to live for once.

I stopped a lot of my destructive behavior. I started working on myself. I stopped drinking and tripping to instead work on my physical and mental health. It became easier after moving across the country and not being around the same people. If I still lived in Tampa, I'd probably be dead by now. I save up money until I'm 19 and then leave for Maine. It took me a while, but I shed off a lot of my insecurities and established some good things about myself. I became a hard worker, not like oh look how good he's doing kewt, but like how is he still standing after working full force non-stop for over 100 hours this week?

I switched different jobs a few times, but every compliment made me feel better and better about myself. I joined a Ritz Carlton with over 700+ employees. I would be told I was amazing everyday. People would tip me under-the-table because of how much I'd help them. I could do the job of three position and still do my position better than anyone else. I worked 80-120 hour weeks. I ate extremely healthy. I biked 15 - 50 miles a day, ran 2 - 10 miles, and still hit the gym. I would kayak and swim on my free time. The area had little to do recreationally and was basically marry your highschool sweetheart type deal. I was 21 and fell for a girl who just left highschool (18). She was a little chubbier and not popular during highschool. She fell for a non-ambitious lazy 24 year old who worked at our small town cinema. She bloomed in front of my eyes.

I forced myself to do more and more. I became incredibly attractive and successful. I sacrificed money-making shifts (lateral system -- I did 27 different positions) to take shifts with her instead. I was the Golden Boy and had managers come to me trying to get me to take shifts. I was still making money hand over fist. All I wanted was to be in a relationship with her. It was the first time I had ever felt like this, but I wanted to be a good person. Hours and hours staring at the stars in mesmerizing outdoor settings gave me time to think. I became an incredibly nice person. I was use to shit happening to me, so little things that other people would complain about meant absolutely nothing to me. I broke my back to help other people out and it made me feel good about myself. So even though I knew that she would have been happier with me how could I take away his happiness? He wasn't going to get anyone better. I tried justifying it by logic. He took advantage of her highschool insecurities and pretty much preyed on her kind nature. She made good money at the Ritz and I secretely gave her a career boost since I had a very strong presence with the F&B managers. She ended up a server in less than a year. She paid for pretty much everything as a couple.

We were joking around one day and she was asking what I wanted in a woman. I pretended to think about and told her how I wanted to travel. I gave a passionate speech about the possibilities and then worked it around to how The Ritz Carlton would actually be a great way to make that happen. How nice would it be to find someone I worked with to travel from Ritz to Ritz? We then started avidly discussing different Ritz's and how amazing that could be. I could see it in her eyes, I was so positive, she was in love with me. For the first time in my life I felt like someone loved me. I almost kissed her then and there. I really wish I had, damn the consequences. Instead, inside, I was terrified. It was engrained in me that I would never be loved. That I wasn't worthy of love and that I would always be alone. So I let the moment slide and left.

I had resigned myself to forgetting her. I was working ridiculous hours and was burning myself out. I started going out 45 minutes to start forming a club life. Drugs and drinking and still the perfect employee. I would hook-up with a girl, sometimes for a week or so, and then end it. I just worked too much. Then that happens and passion roars through my veins. I became a romantic for a while, posted a lot of poems here, and thought I met the person I would spend the rest of my life with.

I kept working harder and harder, hoping to reach my goal. Everyone thought it was eventually going to happen with us. People would joke that we were a couple. I worked harder and harder. I involved myself in a staff outing and was going to get to spend some time with her out of work (needless to say her boyfriend disliked her spending time with me). I had two opportunities before, both with her best friend as a chaperone, but they didn't work out as planned. The first time we all went out for sushi and I wore my new $3000 suit I purchased on a special sale I involved in a train trip. Of course, I paid for it all. The friend obviously knew what I was up to, but she pretended to be clueless. The second time I had an extensive trip planned out and all it would take was us arriving there. I didn't have a smartphone at the time so driving was left to them. They got lost and we never showed up. I found a Groupon and got them interested since I needed people for it, secretely tossing in $ on the side, which would have been great. I mean... I pulled out the nines for this. It had stuff set up for our arrival, on the sly, but again... never showed.

So I got nervous about it this time. We're going to the beach and that means I have to take my shirt off. Not a huge deal, I'm a bit pale and have a great body. The problem? Maybe all the scars on my back from my early childhood which hadn't fully healed all the way. I'm so nervous I can't sleep for days' One of my buddies gives me an Ambien. It barely works, but kicks in with half a beer. I go batshit crazy. Guess what time I decide to put all my cards on the table?

In front of a bunch of coworkers, blood all over me, talking crazy like I'm still in highschool (oh ya, used a wrong name here), and ending up at the hospital. Which I wake up at with almost no memories and walk out of. Then run barefoot two miles to my house, open the door, open my room door, and pass out on my face immediatelly. For some reason as soon as I wake up I send a lot of texts which her boyfriend sees.

I fucked everything up. It wasn't even my goddamn fault, but how do you explain that? Of course I don't get fired, not even a slap on the wrist. They aren't willing to risk losing one of their top non-salary employees. So, shit gets weird between us. I freak out and go on a 3 month trip and don't come back. I regret how it turned out.

I let everything go on my trip. I was a bartender in La Paz, biked the Death Road twice, rappeled down a 5 star hotel, visited beautiful places, worked with wild cats, was a tour guide on the Amazon River, cave excavations in Spain, hiked to Machu Picchu, and so much more. I had a passionate romantic fling with a French-Canadian girl who had a boyfriend back home. It was intense and exactly what I needed after everything.

It's been over three years since then and I haven't done anything of note at all. I started partying over and over just having fun. I moved to a city with sexual freedom and just let myself go. I met hundreds of people and would have multiple after parties for every night. I was still beautiful and could pull any girl I wanted, mainly, and sometimes more than one.

I don't know what happened, but I'm 25 now. Somewhere along the line I just had a panic attack and felt worthless again. That no one could love me and that I'm always going to be alone. I realize I'm the one that pushes people away and not the other way around, but I still have these delusions grasping at my every thought. I see people in relationships and wonder why I haven't ever had a real one. I'm twenty five and have never been in a relationship longer than two months. I'm still in the same hospitality industry, but I don't feel proud of my work anymore. I feel stressed out and demoralized. My employer is terrible at running a business and is sinking it into the ground. She never worked in a restaurant before and has no idea how to run one. She's prideful to the point of delusion and won't accept ideas or criticism. She may listen to your idea, but sprinkle some time on and it was her idea from the start. No one cares, too much, but it just reflects badly.

I went from being one of those people who has a magnetic personality to socially distancing myself from everyone. We get free staff meals and drinks at work, so my diet got fucked. I went from eating healthily to eating all cream-based meals and later hour snacking. Add all the drinking and no time or motivation for exercising and boom -- weight gain. It's not that bad, but sometimes in my mind it's a lot worse than it is. I went from looking like a model to being slightly pudgy. My skin has gotten worse, my hair is getting oily and I started getting dandruff. The stress is getting to me and I don't know what to do about it.

I was going to just leave and start over fresh somewhere else. A few months living in the outdoors would sort me out, but that's not an option. I was at a party and wasn't drinking. My buddy kept pressuring me to, but I said I wasn't going to drink and drive. He said I could crash on a couch, so I drank -- a lot. We all got kicked out by the landlord. I didn't know where I was exactly, got lost, got pulled over. Now I have a DUI and I feel like I'm just stuck here. One of my releases was looking at other places and jobs for fun. Knowing that I could always go to one of them if I wanted. I always had the option of joining any Ritz Carlton, but do I anymore? Do my recommendations matter anymore if they peg me as an alcoholic? I'm young and have had a hard life. Of course I'm going to let loose with people who enjoy my company.

I don't know... I'm socially anxious, lost all my motivation, depressed, isolate myself from people, and just don't know how to improve it. I'm about to try medication, because it's effected my life poorly. I've gained weight, I lost my confidence, I feel unhappy all the time, I lost my ambitions, my life is disorganized, I'm making no progress towards my future, and there's no reason anyone should be with the person I am at the moment.

I feel like my life is falling apart, but it's all my fault. I need to get back in shape and get my life together. I'm just not sure how I can do that with how low I feel. I've started to purposely avoid my roommates. I do whatever I can to be home when they aren't and away when they are. They've noticed. My room use to be organized and I'd decorate it with my own art or writing all the time. Work out schedules, budget expenses, quotations, dietary scheduling, self-imposed course lessons, to-buy needs & wants, etc.

I would not let anyone in my room now. I could clean it up in two hours, max, but I don't. My sleep is so fucked up that I'll wake up late afternoon. Then to avoid my roommates out of fear of making noise, I'll leave before working on it. In my head I sound defeated.
"Who cares? You're the only one who has to see it. They're probably going to kick you out anyways. I'm surprised they haven't already. I'm sure it'll happen soon, the only reason it's been this long is that you use to be fun. You use to be a great roommate and clean the house, get them food or gifts, initiate fun situations, but that's over. You're over, just crawl in a hole. You're worthless, you've always been worthless, and no matter how hard you try otherwise you'll always be worthless. You deserve to be alone, make it so you have to be. You're a coward. You know everyone thinks you're disgusting, you just try to hide it. Why don't you let them see it? Because there's no point? Like I said, you're worthless."

Okay, that's a bit overboard. Kind of went with an excerpt from my Anti-Hero Anti-Christ detective series. Some demon mind rape and all that.

Then again, it's true. I know it's irrational and that if I just applied myself again everything would change. I just can't find the motivation to make it my day to day. My social anxiety is causing me to care about the smallest things. Someone seeing me in my old workout clothes, with a belly now, or my over-excessive gasps of breath from chain-smoking and being so out of shape. I really don't think I could take anyone looking at me with disgust right now. I couldn't work out while my roommates were home. The idea of them being there makes me not even consider starting. It's just gone too long now, I need a large fix for that situation.

I need to fix my sleep schedule, but I just want to sleep as long as I can and then throw some clothes on before hitting work. I know, it's called depression. I've gone through it before, but I can't use the same fixes I did before this time.

If I could find some motivation, ignore my social anxiety, and fix my sleep schedule I could sort it out all myself. All I really need to do is find a source of motivation and fix my anxiety problems quickly. Even if I could find a way to fake my motivation, it'd be fine. I can force myself into a new sleep schedule, I've done it time after time, but I need a sense of drive for that. Something to make me override my own self-destructive ways.

A possibility of a relationship would do it, but I'm at a Catch-22 with that one. Anything too far away would just be discarded eventually. I need something close and tangible.
What I really need is help. I need someone to talk to, someone to keep me motivated, and someone I'm not afraid to be around. Don't say a therapist, I'm just not comfortable around them and I need someone I can be comfortable with. No offense to anyone, but a lot of therapists kind of creep me out. The job itself is awkward in my opinion.

Whew, that felt pretty good and bad at the same time. Kind of want to brush this with an edit later and kind of don't want to. Coffee shop is about to be closed, so feel like I need to go grab dinner. I don't really want to be writing all of this stuff out in public anyway. Just couldn't stop.

 

Wow, that is one hell of a story. It's good to get it off your chest though! Child abusers are scumbags...

 

Actually, I accidentally hit post before I meant to. I got like not even halfway through and then had to do stuff in real life for a second. Lost my flow and cut short the rest.

Ya, so that's my current situation. Pretty much in the mind set of take some meds and fake it till you make it.

I've pushed it off for so long though.

I'm tired. People use to want to be me, now I want to be anyone else. I need a change of pace and I need it soon.

 

Own it; all of it.
Writing everything down is a good start, but go over even the smallest details.
If i gets too hard stop, but only for a minute, then pick it back up again.

Then, and this is the hardest part, start over again.
The difference between your new life and this one can be as big as your childhood was till now.

By the way, good luck; but I hope you don't need it.


Sorry if i'm coming off preachy or commanding, and i know what i wen't through wasn't the same, but fuck if it doesn't seem similar.
Maybe that's why we all found our way here.

 

Well, when I posted on the other forum I really wasn't whining about my problems. I have no intention of seeing a licensed professional, see below, but also not trying to just bitch and moan. I think I mistook the purpose of the thread, since I read a few posts and it seemed like a place to vent your problems in the comfort of obscurity.

If I'm being honest, while I appreciate it, I could care less if anyone responds or not. An anonymous user on a forum that I have no personal attachment to isn't going to help one way or another. I have no basis on to respect any of your opinions. I know nothing of your lives, your hardships, the choices you've made, your mistakes, or how you dealt with them.

It simply felt good to let it out.

Now here come's, why not talk to a licensed professional? A therapist is trained to discuss your problems and help you cope with them in a healthy manner.

*yawn* Let's get into it.

Any licensed therapist I meet is going to be a stranger to me. Not only in the sense of not having met before, but also in the fact that I'm unknowledgable about their personal life. What if they have personal views that conflict with my own sense of morals or beliefs? Unwittingly we could have contrasting views in life, which is quite reasonable to assume. Now, they're suppose to empathize and analyze with my past and present issues.

Did they go through the same issues I did? Do they have first-hand experience with dealing with the same issues I have? It's possible, but improbible. The argument is that they don't have to go exactly through the same situations. Pain is pain. Bleeding hearts for my wallpaper and all that. Cool, sure let's just agree with it.

One facet of a licensed therapist is that you're able to reveal personal information to them with full disclosure. So, let's put absolute trust in that piece of paper. Not possible that they're human and tell their spouse or get a divorce from said spouse. Hell, maybe they have a rough one and go on a bender.

How is a therapist even considered qualified? They pass a bunch of classes that have opposing views? Pop psychology gets debunked all the time. There's so much contention in psychological view.

So let's go over it. You're expected to put trust into a stranger due to being licensed, which many of their teachings could be proven false later on, that you have no information on. They could have a completely contrasting personality from you and their experiences may completely differ. Their personal views and sense of beliefs may go against your own, but they're expected to provide useful insights specified towards your own personage. You're expected to trust these strangers you have little information on with your most personal secrets with no expected exchange.

Why would anyone go to a therapist? I couldn't imagine taking the advice of anyone who I didn't have a personal bond to heart. How can I take the advice of someone I don't trust and respect? You say I should build that trust over time, $, $, $, $, $ = trust / time.

Listing my problems on a forum where I'm just another anonymous user, I could care less. You don't know me, I don't know you. I don't stare you in the eye on a daily basis. Incredibly simple to never have contact again.

Sorry if that came out sort of in the form of an attack. I honestly consider many licensed therapists to be kind of a joke. Even if they have good intentions, what if their patient is more intelligent then them? Part of their condition is that they have a tendecy to lie and manipulate others for their own potential gain. Now, they want to address this issue but are struggling. How is the therapist suppose to help that person when they can't even notice they're being given the run around. Now you through in a more intelligent and experienced therapist who's actually able to help people. What's that on Yelp $$$$$? Ya, nah I'm good.

 

Wow. That is too stupid for me to even address.

 

I'm not quite sure how to label you yet. You shows signs of being easily confrontational, dismissive of others, yet seem to consider yourself knowledgeable of subjects which can be considered highly opinionable.

For instance, you related a previous post of mine focusing on a female raping a man to be opinion and provided articles as fact.

I was molested by a female, at a young age, so I have personal experience with that situation. I gave a response corresponding with my own personal experience provided. Perhaps it differs due to the fact that the protagonist and antagonist were adults.

Now, multiple beliefs in psychology have been debunked. One way for a psychologist to advance their career is by publication. This push to publish can lead to several questionable practices. It also can form pop psychology which I tend to relate to fad diets. Even if not intentional, subtle self-delusion can occur. A psychologist is suppose to be able to resolve the issues of other people. A false sense of superiority, while perhaps not intended, can result from this.

There are currently no incentives for a researcher to share their data. How do we know their work was reliable? Brian Nosek created the Open Science Framework, but there's no certainity others will always join.

I'm a realist. I don't believe that anything is always going to remain absolute. These examples have been "debunked," but I'm not an expert and can't really attest to the truth of that statement.

Ink blots (Rorschach test) has been debunked. The three categories of learning; visual, auditory, and kinaesthetic were debunked as not being fully conclusive. The belief we only use ten percent of our brain. Body language can be conclusive in telling if a person is lying or not. Heh, even a show called Lie to Me. It's not conclusive.

Lie detectors are no longer conclusive.

Our conception of how the brain works consistently changes. I just don't trust random strangers in a field that is still developing.

I'm not disregarding the entire field as a whole, I just don't put much weight into it with our current level of understanding.

Freud. 'nuff said.