English is not my first language so there maybe some mistakes, please forget.
Cause I do not have the mental strength(just tired out) to write in English, I would use translator for this thread.
From the beginning of my second year of high school through the next year I had been taking escitalopram together with quetiapine for more than a year, and my parents eventually decided, to stop the medication. During that period the pandemic, online classes, and the medications had become entangled in my daily life, and I found myself repeatedly imagining when and where on campus it would be possible to end my life. Because the old city had height restrictions, trees blocked sightlines, and windows had limiters installed, I had come to understand with grim clarity that any attempt would not terminate my life but would only result in prolonged suffering; that understanding kept me from acting on those thoughts. In evening study sessions I frequently could not complete homework and I could not follow lessons; while classmates hurriedly wrote, I would read novels or magazines, scrawl my homework pages into blackened patches, or simply lie down and sleep. When I woke and saw the clock counting down half an hour until the end of class, the darkness outside amplified my helplessness and I returned to rehearsing scenarios in my head: which hour would allow me to leave the dormitory or the building without being seen by guards or other students, and what position would produce the result I imagined. A student at my school had once slipped out at night, gone to the teaching building, and fallen; the person had not been found until morning and resuscitation had failed. That tragic episode lodged in my memory and fed the recurring plans I constructed for myself.
During my final year of high school life had a more regular rhythm and my sleep problems had eased somewhat after stopping medication, yet I remained drowsy in class. I moved out of the dormitory and rented a room while a relative accompanied me to study, which allowed me to resume a degree of independent learning; I scored a little over four hundred on the second-year end-of-term exam. Still, considerable difficulty persisted: I could not memorize the six-minute dictation required for Chinese, no matter how I tried. The gaokao that year was relatively straightforward, and I scored in the high five hundreds, which secured admission to Xi'an Jiaotong-Liverpool University. Even after the exam was over I worried about the possibility of failing to enter university, I looked into options for repeating the year in Shanghai and bought extra workbooks; once admission was confirmed, I immediately plunged into a period of sleepless nights that left me disoriented. Returning home prompted my parents to consult traditional Chinese medicine practitioners and to suggest that I change rooms, and those physical rearrangements reopened a flood of painful memories. I shut myself in my room, lived by night and slept by day, or I endured long subway commutes that took me from the south gate out to Tongli and back; the carriage on Line 4 was often nearly empty and that emptiness matched the isolation I felt. Nights of sleeplessness produced no improvement; daytime excursions were sometimes accompanied by vertigo. When my supply of quetiapine ran out, I was still underage and when I went to hospital I was turned away; fortunately, I had kept past outpatient records and was able to purchase a single box of medication online, which carried me through that summer.
University was only about five kilometers from home, but the four-person dorm proved unbearable within two months and my anxiety exploded. Whenever roommates were present I could not get out of bed, and I feared being seen doing anything at all; as a result my sleep and eating patterns collapsed. I skipped classes frequently because I could not remain seated in crowded lecture halls. Going home offered no refuge, because my family life had been upended when my parents had a second child during my fifth-grade year; that change had altered the household dynamic in ways that continued to affect me. Once I reached adulthood I returned to hospital for follow-up care. My psychiatrist prescribed venlafaxine and quetiapine, and because quetiapine alone did not secure sleep the regimen was later augmented with trazodone. For palpitations I briefly tried metoprolol but it lowered my blood pressure to the point that I feared leaving the house, so my cardiology team switched me to ivabradine; despite that, my heart rate still rose in crowded situations, and in June the team added tandospirone. Pharmacotherapy helped stabilize basic daily rhythms to some extent, and trazodone in particular had become critical for ensuring sleep; when I stopped medication, two hours of sleep after an all-nighter would still be followed by early wakening.
Academically, I had essentially been unable to master two semesters of advanced calculus and I used my medical records to apply for deferred exams over the summer. Approaching examinations I was surviving on sheer will; in other courses I completed the minimal work required, sat exams only briefly, and left the room as soon as I had finished the questions because I could not tolerate staying any longer. In March I obtained a single room in the dormitory, which offered a measure of safety and allowed me to keep up with basic self-care such as brushing my teeth and washing my face.
It was only at a certain point that I recognized the daily, persistent thoughts of jumping during high school as themselves being an abnormal reaction. Looking back I can trace multiple intertwining causes: my parents, the pressures of society, and my own vulnerability have together shaped the long-standing difficulties I have experienced. As early as fifth grade I began refusing to attend school, and the arrival of a younger sibling had a tangible impact on my life. In middle school the pattern evolved into an adjustment disorder; during the second year of middle school online instruction pushed me to the brink. While attending remote classes I would instead watch short videos on streaming platforms and fail to listen or complete assignments; after returning to campus my attendance became intermittent. My family sought traditional Chinese medicine and household counseling, but these interventions produced limited results and formal psychiatric consultation did not occur until much later. My academic performance has often shielded me from scrutiny, since teachers have tended to tolerate my erratic behavior when grades remained acceptable. I did not obtain a QQ account until after the high school entrance examinations, and prior to that I had almost no deep peer relationships outside school; the one friend from elementary school who remained in the same school and with whom I had stayed in touch was far ahead of me academically, which made my disengagement feel inconsequential in comparison. Even without internet access I could stay up all night reading while still failing to complete assignments; for me the inability to finish homework felt catastrophic in the moment, even when teachers assured me that missing assignments would not be decisive. Once I began boarding at high school, escaping by skipping class became more difficult and the frequency of unfinished homework increased while teacher responses became briefer. During the period of online classes and military training my outpatient records were shared within the school, and I once had a public breakdown; after that episode my teachers visibly stopped emphasizing grades and assignments. In retrospect I remain uncertain about what the recurring claim of "unfinished homework" was attempting to conceal beneath the surface.
I have self-diagnosed as CPTSD, but there is nothing I can do to seek recovery. I take pills, go to consulting but I still could not go to university every day. I come to this forum because I began to have suicidal thoughts early of my childhood, maybe 10. But It's hard to find a free place to talk about suicide. After so many years I was more than surprising to find SS forum.
Here I am seeking any advice for CPTSD or mixed anxiety and depression
Thanks.
Cause I do not have the mental strength(just tired out) to write in English, I would use translator for this thread.
From the beginning of my second year of high school through the next year I had been taking escitalopram together with quetiapine for more than a year, and my parents eventually decided, to stop the medication. During that period the pandemic, online classes, and the medications had become entangled in my daily life, and I found myself repeatedly imagining when and where on campus it would be possible to end my life. Because the old city had height restrictions, trees blocked sightlines, and windows had limiters installed, I had come to understand with grim clarity that any attempt would not terminate my life but would only result in prolonged suffering; that understanding kept me from acting on those thoughts. In evening study sessions I frequently could not complete homework and I could not follow lessons; while classmates hurriedly wrote, I would read novels or magazines, scrawl my homework pages into blackened patches, or simply lie down and sleep. When I woke and saw the clock counting down half an hour until the end of class, the darkness outside amplified my helplessness and I returned to rehearsing scenarios in my head: which hour would allow me to leave the dormitory or the building without being seen by guards or other students, and what position would produce the result I imagined. A student at my school had once slipped out at night, gone to the teaching building, and fallen; the person had not been found until morning and resuscitation had failed. That tragic episode lodged in my memory and fed the recurring plans I constructed for myself.
During my final year of high school life had a more regular rhythm and my sleep problems had eased somewhat after stopping medication, yet I remained drowsy in class. I moved out of the dormitory and rented a room while a relative accompanied me to study, which allowed me to resume a degree of independent learning; I scored a little over four hundred on the second-year end-of-term exam. Still, considerable difficulty persisted: I could not memorize the six-minute dictation required for Chinese, no matter how I tried. The gaokao that year was relatively straightforward, and I scored in the high five hundreds, which secured admission to Xi'an Jiaotong-Liverpool University. Even after the exam was over I worried about the possibility of failing to enter university, I looked into options for repeating the year in Shanghai and bought extra workbooks; once admission was confirmed, I immediately plunged into a period of sleepless nights that left me disoriented. Returning home prompted my parents to consult traditional Chinese medicine practitioners and to suggest that I change rooms, and those physical rearrangements reopened a flood of painful memories. I shut myself in my room, lived by night and slept by day, or I endured long subway commutes that took me from the south gate out to Tongli and back; the carriage on Line 4 was often nearly empty and that emptiness matched the isolation I felt. Nights of sleeplessness produced no improvement; daytime excursions were sometimes accompanied by vertigo. When my supply of quetiapine ran out, I was still underage and when I went to hospital I was turned away; fortunately, I had kept past outpatient records and was able to purchase a single box of medication online, which carried me through that summer.
University was only about five kilometers from home, but the four-person dorm proved unbearable within two months and my anxiety exploded. Whenever roommates were present I could not get out of bed, and I feared being seen doing anything at all; as a result my sleep and eating patterns collapsed. I skipped classes frequently because I could not remain seated in crowded lecture halls. Going home offered no refuge, because my family life had been upended when my parents had a second child during my fifth-grade year; that change had altered the household dynamic in ways that continued to affect me. Once I reached adulthood I returned to hospital for follow-up care. My psychiatrist prescribed venlafaxine and quetiapine, and because quetiapine alone did not secure sleep the regimen was later augmented with trazodone. For palpitations I briefly tried metoprolol but it lowered my blood pressure to the point that I feared leaving the house, so my cardiology team switched me to ivabradine; despite that, my heart rate still rose in crowded situations, and in June the team added tandospirone. Pharmacotherapy helped stabilize basic daily rhythms to some extent, and trazodone in particular had become critical for ensuring sleep; when I stopped medication, two hours of sleep after an all-nighter would still be followed by early wakening.
Academically, I had essentially been unable to master two semesters of advanced calculus and I used my medical records to apply for deferred exams over the summer. Approaching examinations I was surviving on sheer will; in other courses I completed the minimal work required, sat exams only briefly, and left the room as soon as I had finished the questions because I could not tolerate staying any longer. In March I obtained a single room in the dormitory, which offered a measure of safety and allowed me to keep up with basic self-care such as brushing my teeth and washing my face.
It was only at a certain point that I recognized the daily, persistent thoughts of jumping during high school as themselves being an abnormal reaction. Looking back I can trace multiple intertwining causes: my parents, the pressures of society, and my own vulnerability have together shaped the long-standing difficulties I have experienced. As early as fifth grade I began refusing to attend school, and the arrival of a younger sibling had a tangible impact on my life. In middle school the pattern evolved into an adjustment disorder; during the second year of middle school online instruction pushed me to the brink. While attending remote classes I would instead watch short videos on streaming platforms and fail to listen or complete assignments; after returning to campus my attendance became intermittent. My family sought traditional Chinese medicine and household counseling, but these interventions produced limited results and formal psychiatric consultation did not occur until much later. My academic performance has often shielded me from scrutiny, since teachers have tended to tolerate my erratic behavior when grades remained acceptable. I did not obtain a QQ account until after the high school entrance examinations, and prior to that I had almost no deep peer relationships outside school; the one friend from elementary school who remained in the same school and with whom I had stayed in touch was far ahead of me academically, which made my disengagement feel inconsequential in comparison. Even without internet access I could stay up all night reading while still failing to complete assignments; for me the inability to finish homework felt catastrophic in the moment, even when teachers assured me that missing assignments would not be decisive. Once I began boarding at high school, escaping by skipping class became more difficult and the frequency of unfinished homework increased while teacher responses became briefer. During the period of online classes and military training my outpatient records were shared within the school, and I once had a public breakdown; after that episode my teachers visibly stopped emphasizing grades and assignments. In retrospect I remain uncertain about what the recurring claim of "unfinished homework" was attempting to conceal beneath the surface.
I have self-diagnosed as CPTSD, but there is nothing I can do to seek recovery. I take pills, go to consulting but I still could not go to university every day. I come to this forum because I began to have suicidal thoughts early of my childhood, maybe 10. But It's hard to find a free place to talk about suicide. After so many years I was more than surprising to find SS forum.
Here I am seeking any advice for CPTSD or mixed anxiety and depression
Thanks.
