Finding Answers….still!

I was struggling as I was learning what all these new disorders I had were all about. My family was trying to wrap their brains around the fact that I wasn’t the same anymore. So was I…. I didn’t know why I was afraid of people now, I didn’t know why I cried at everything, why I could feel better. I didn’t understand it and I was mad about it! What had I done to deserve all this?

It began effecting every job I had. I wasn’t used to walking out and ignoring responsibility. I was wanting to be loved so I made awful decisions that pulled me away from my beliefs and morals. I tried to be the way I knew I had been before, but that person was long gone, I didn’t even know who she was. The medications were very strong and made me lethargic and tired. I didn’t laugh spontaneously anymore. I simple didn’t care about hardly anything. Adding with poor decisions came self doubt, self hate and the worst of them all, self harm.

I began “cutting”.  It was something that I knew was wrong and harmful, but I didn’t know why I did it, I didn’t understand what I got out of it, but I had to keep doing it. I was ashamed of myself, keeping it a secret was hard. I hated myself. But I also got a feeling of control, self power from telling myself that it was the one thing that I could do if I wanted and no one could tell me I couldn’t. It was harmful to anyone but me, why not? I talked to therapists, doctors, friends, and others that also cut to find out why I did it. Everyone said something completely different. So finding a “cure” seemed very hard. My loved ones just wanted to get after me saying “How could you do something like this?” “What are you thinking?” “Just stop!”  But I needed to understand it better. I read a lot of books and finally had a wonderful therapist who helped me want to make a change. She had me look at things differently and my life began getting better.

I continued to go to different groups and take meds that helped and some that didn’t. I lived with my brother who helped me cope with everyday life. But truly, I think he was more a babysitter. He was there every time I had a seizure, every time I crumpled in his arms, I felt like I was becoming a burden to him and the rest of my family. I had many times where the ambulance came to take me to the ER. I think maybe I knew some of the staff by first name. I was frustrated, everyone who loved me was frustrated. Not that they were mad at me, I know and they knew there was nothing I could do differently other than use the coping skills and maybe one day things would be better……

Thanks for reading! Love, Heather

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