My story? Do you want short or long version? Oh who am I kidding, there is no short version with me. So, first of all, let me introduce myself. My name is Dawn, I come from one very small European country and I’m 24 y/o. Right now I’m sitting at home, smoking a cigarette, sipping coffee and listening to one awesome song on one hour loop. All good, all normal. I’m in my parents living room and you woudn’t find anything unusual here until your eye would catch one particular stack – stack of my pills. In the beginning, I would hide my pills far away, not that others can’t see them, but so that I can pretend they don’t exist. Let me get clear here, I’m not parading my pills infront of guest, but they became something that I have to take in specific time and it’s easier to remember to take them if you can SEE them.
My problems started around the age of 17 when I was in my first relationship. It was intense, nothing I experienced before or after. Yes, I’m married now and I love my husband, but that first love was something different- Unhealthy. He was like sugar to a diabetic, at the same time so usual, normal, sweet but also deadly. In the beginning, everything was awesome. We were spending every second together, but as time passed by, he was getting more distanced and colder. He would blow me off to go play games and that was a trigger which opened pandoras box inside of me.
I had strong, obsessive, unwanted thoughts. Voice in my head was saying, “leave him, break up with him“ and I was fighting it as much as I could. One day, I was screaming outside of a coffee place because the anxiety was so strong, I felt suffocated. I decided to take a break from him, from us, in hope that those thoughts would stop and everything would go back to normal. It didn’t. We got back together, then broke up again. Got back together, broke up. In-between those ,”together“ parts, he was cheating on me. It made me feel sick but it never crossed my mind that he is not worth it, that “we“ as a couple, were not worth it. There was nothing for us to talk about and nothing to do except have sex and talk about games. That “on and off“ period got really long, it lasted for 6 months I think, and it really killed my confidence in love, life and myself.
Anxiety was pretty hard, school bothered me more than usual and I changed overnight. From the innocent little girl, I became a booty-call for someone who doesn’t even know what loving anyone but himself means. I got so dependent, my day would consist of waiting for him to call me and crying because he didn’t. I even had some crazy ideas like “if I don’t smoke for next hour, and don’t touch my phone for a 30 minutes after that he will call“. I was a train-wreck, but since I told no one what I was doing and what I was thinking, there was no one to tell me to get some help, no one to guide me. So, I contacted “doctor google“.
The thoughts were getting pretty rough, violent. After some time, I did tell my mom what was going on, but she never took is as serious as it was and it kind of just stopped on it’s own. I don’t blame her for not reacting because she didn’t know much about anxiety or OCD so she thought that I was simply being a teen. Weird teen, but normal at the same time.
~skipping a year and a half~
I finished highschool and started university. I was in a realtionship with my future husband and stuff were kind off ok. As you may notice, things are never TOTALLY ok. First panick attack was when I was just 12. I remember it as if it was yesterday and it gives me chills. Second one was even worse. I was in a new town with no one to call, no one to help me. It did pass, as they all do, but fear of fear stayed. Soon my OCD kicked in. I started to take some routines more seriously than I should . If something was out of order, I would feel anxious and get convinced that the next day will be a bad day.
I was keeping it all to myself because I didn’t even know that it wasn’t normal. I did have my boyfriend but that was also an on and off relationship and he was first person I told what I have when I realized what it was. He was, and is supportive, from day one. Other than him, I told my parents and that was about that.
A month after I came in that new town, I had to move. Well I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. My roomate was just one more poisonous person in my life. I can remember that day literally like it was yesterday. I had some classes in the morning, then I was reading my book in front of university for almost the whole afternoon waiting for my parents to come and help me move. I was happy. As time with them was passing, I started to feel bad again. I was trying not to cry and soon they had to go home.
When I got alone in my room, the panick kicked in. I was not alone in the apartment so it did give me some comfort, but anyone who’s ever had a panick attack knows how little that is, almost none. I decided to write an email to my mom, and I sent her a text so that she would check it in the morning. She knew something was up, and she was drilling me to say it over the phone. I broke down and told her everything. I literally begged her to let me come home tomorrow. She was shocked. Supportive but, shocked. I think she never heard anyone sobbing so hard and shouting they needed help.
Day after that, I came home. And I never went back there.
If you would find out more about me, how things ended up and how I’m doing now go check my blog. Also, if you have any comments or messages for me, feel free to write whatever you like.
Submitted by Dawn from Diary of a crazy diamond.com
Image Credit: mission68.org If you would like to share your story for next week’s Mental health Friday, you can contact me at my email: firstname.lastname@example.org Let’s join and blur out the stigma associated with Mental illness. Till next week 🙂