Like many here, I had an abusive childhood. My mom drilled it into my head that I was disgusting, unlovable, worthless, and would only ever be a "practice girl" for men. I grew up believing I was truly disgusting and that every guy who asked me out was simply trying to fuck with me. I missed out on so many critical and developmental milestones due to her gaslighting and brainwashing. I look back at pictures of my old self and see a pretty girl with endless potential. But this same mentality has carried through to friendships, relationships, etc. to my current age of 31. I attempted suicide at 15 which brought me to be hospitalized, after which my mother raged at me for trying to "make her look bad". My parents went bankrupt and divorced right before college and took my childhood savings to try to keep themselves afloat. When I began college, my social anxiety was so intense I truly believed I was a mute. I was not able to function unless I was drunk and/or stoned which led me to lose my virginity and have my first kiss without my consent, reaffirming my mom's predictions, and bringing me to my next suicide attempt at 19. This brought me back home to live with my dad in his apartment, and put on antidepressants and Adderall. The Adderall led to an 8-year-long addiction that debilitated me temporarily but that's another story. I started college locally and actually begin developing a small friend group. One thing leads to another and I have a long term relationship I sabotage three years later because I cannot fathom he actually loves me, which in hindsight was abundantly clear. I was a piece of shit to him because I couldn't see what I had in front of me. Luckily he's in a good relationship now. I had a second long term relationship that sucked ass, and I happily dumped him at 27.
At 30, I was experiencing career success like I never had before and was on cloud 9. I had a positive public reputation, like I'm google-able. In my newfound confidence and happiness, my psychiatrist at the time told me I was ready to come off of my Effexor. So she prescribed me a six-day taper off of 250mg that I'd been on for 11 years. That should've raised red flags but I trusted her decision. Over the next two months I descended into severe psychosis. Sabotaged my work, friendships, and made wild accusations that were ultimately untrue, but felt like inarguable reality to me in my psychosis. I thoroughly destroyed my reputation and credibility as a person and professional. Accused my aunt of trying to steal my computer, my uncle of trying to steal my dog, my dad of trying to stalk me, my apartment complex of harassing me, etc. Every single interaction I had was a conspiracy to harm me. I booked multiple hotel rooms at random locations all over the state to prevent my dad from "finding me". Wasted a lot of money and I was already in severe cc debt at the time. I eventually came to fear I was being arrested, and made the mistake of contacting my mom and stepdad to pick up my dog so I could turn myself in. They instead came to pick us both up and pretended to be hiding me from the police which escalated my paranoid delusions. Their excuse in hindsight was that you're not supposed to doubt someone's delusions to avoid angering them. I don't think you're necessarily supposed to pretend their worst fears are ongoing and stage events to align with their false reality. I eventually came to fear that my mom and stepdad had killed someone on my behalf due to an emergency text from my apartment complex and my delusional state at the time. I asked them straight up if they killed someone. My mom said "Well, we were trying to help you." Instead of just fucking saying "no". So I called 911 which led me to be taken to the hospital. There, I was stabilized back onto my meds. But the scars, shame, embarrassment and effects of that episode linger. I'd never experienced psychosis before. My dad, aunt and most everyone else have forgiven me and understand I was not in my right mind, but my mom and stepdad love to poke fun at everything while implying I did it all on purpose for attention or to get money from my dad who had to support me following this episode.
Now, about a year later, I'm in a somewhat stable job again. But I feel I've destroyed my ability to participate in the only field that gave me a sense of purpose, of which used to harbor all of my pride. I've built some new solid friendships. I went no contact with my mom and stepdad. I moved to a new apartment complex (because I yelled at a bunch of people who didn't deserve it in my psychosis and couldn't stand the weird looks anymore). I'm even dating someone. But the fear he could "find out" about this insane episode of mine that was ultimately not my fault is driving me crazy. I also fear he would judge me for the fact I am rebuilding my finances and am well behind for my age. I owe 15k to my dad, have 4k in cc debt, 35k in student debt, and only 7k in savings. He sees me as someone prudent and frugal so I feel he loves me for someone I am not. I even told my aunt I maxed out my ccs during my psychosis, so other people could tell him about what an idiot I've been for like a decade with my finances. The worst thought I have is of my mom and stepdad sharing their perspective of the psychosis situation which is untrue. Or even my aunt/uncle who have forgiven me but who saw me at my worst sharing their memory of that experience. The constant paranoia is driving me crazy, fucking up my ability to connect with him, and I'm just so fucking tired. I ultimately feel like this relationship won't last and he will abandon me. I don't want to be unmarried and unloved like my mom always said I would be. Since I was 11 years old, I've maybe had 4 years total where I didn't constantly fantasize about suicide. I am tired of my brain. I want to allow my dad one more holiday season and birthday (mid January) before I CTB so I'm just coasting until then. Some days I have the ability to put forth some effort towards these elusive goals I have of financial stability and weight loss. Most other days I eat like shit, don't exercise, and scroll reddit all day while pretending I'm competent. In my last months I'm going to volunteer as much as I can to try and leave a good impact to offset the harm of my suicide and other hurtful things I did/said as an addict. Doing food bank stuff, dog shelter stuff, and signed up to donate bone marrow. Maybe something will turn around during all that time. But I am permitting myself to find peace after that window. Either a jump or sodium nitrite. Not sure what led me to write all this out, just wanted to get it off my chest.
At 30, I was experiencing career success like I never had before and was on cloud 9. I had a positive public reputation, like I'm google-able. In my newfound confidence and happiness, my psychiatrist at the time told me I was ready to come off of my Effexor. So she prescribed me a six-day taper off of 250mg that I'd been on for 11 years. That should've raised red flags but I trusted her decision. Over the next two months I descended into severe psychosis. Sabotaged my work, friendships, and made wild accusations that were ultimately untrue, but felt like inarguable reality to me in my psychosis. I thoroughly destroyed my reputation and credibility as a person and professional. Accused my aunt of trying to steal my computer, my uncle of trying to steal my dog, my dad of trying to stalk me, my apartment complex of harassing me, etc. Every single interaction I had was a conspiracy to harm me. I booked multiple hotel rooms at random locations all over the state to prevent my dad from "finding me". Wasted a lot of money and I was already in severe cc debt at the time. I eventually came to fear I was being arrested, and made the mistake of contacting my mom and stepdad to pick up my dog so I could turn myself in. They instead came to pick us both up and pretended to be hiding me from the police which escalated my paranoid delusions. Their excuse in hindsight was that you're not supposed to doubt someone's delusions to avoid angering them. I don't think you're necessarily supposed to pretend their worst fears are ongoing and stage events to align with their false reality. I eventually came to fear that my mom and stepdad had killed someone on my behalf due to an emergency text from my apartment complex and my delusional state at the time. I asked them straight up if they killed someone. My mom said "Well, we were trying to help you." Instead of just fucking saying "no". So I called 911 which led me to be taken to the hospital. There, I was stabilized back onto my meds. But the scars, shame, embarrassment and effects of that episode linger. I'd never experienced psychosis before. My dad, aunt and most everyone else have forgiven me and understand I was not in my right mind, but my mom and stepdad love to poke fun at everything while implying I did it all on purpose for attention or to get money from my dad who had to support me following this episode.
Now, about a year later, I'm in a somewhat stable job again. But I feel I've destroyed my ability to participate in the only field that gave me a sense of purpose, of which used to harbor all of my pride. I've built some new solid friendships. I went no contact with my mom and stepdad. I moved to a new apartment complex (because I yelled at a bunch of people who didn't deserve it in my psychosis and couldn't stand the weird looks anymore). I'm even dating someone. But the fear he could "find out" about this insane episode of mine that was ultimately not my fault is driving me crazy. I also fear he would judge me for the fact I am rebuilding my finances and am well behind for my age. I owe 15k to my dad, have 4k in cc debt, 35k in student debt, and only 7k in savings. He sees me as someone prudent and frugal so I feel he loves me for someone I am not. I even told my aunt I maxed out my ccs during my psychosis, so other people could tell him about what an idiot I've been for like a decade with my finances. The worst thought I have is of my mom and stepdad sharing their perspective of the psychosis situation which is untrue. Or even my aunt/uncle who have forgiven me but who saw me at my worst sharing their memory of that experience. The constant paranoia is driving me crazy, fucking up my ability to connect with him, and I'm just so fucking tired. I ultimately feel like this relationship won't last and he will abandon me. I don't want to be unmarried and unloved like my mom always said I would be. Since I was 11 years old, I've maybe had 4 years total where I didn't constantly fantasize about suicide. I am tired of my brain. I want to allow my dad one more holiday season and birthday (mid January) before I CTB so I'm just coasting until then. Some days I have the ability to put forth some effort towards these elusive goals I have of financial stability and weight loss. Most other days I eat like shit, don't exercise, and scroll reddit all day while pretending I'm competent. In my last months I'm going to volunteer as much as I can to try and leave a good impact to offset the harm of my suicide and other hurtful things I did/said as an addict. Doing food bank stuff, dog shelter stuff, and signed up to donate bone marrow. Maybe something will turn around during all that time. But I am permitting myself to find peace after that window. Either a jump or sodium nitrite. Not sure what led me to write all this out, just wanted to get it off my chest.
