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No. 12144
Anonymous
18th May 2012 Friday 5:18 am
12144
christ i don't know
Right here goes. I know it's long, sorry.
I've always known there was something weird about me, something not right. Had a shitty childhood, growing up I had mood swings where I just went off the walls for weeks on end, did a lot of stupid things then my mood would change and I'd spend weeks crying and hating myself for all the stupid mistakes I'd made, but I could never control the mood swings. Started drinking heavily at the age of 14, was addicted to numerous drugs from 15 onwards, life just spiralled out of control. I met a bloke along the way and we got together, fell in love with him - my first love. He killed himself 11 months later.
When I was 16 I met a new guy, thought he was perfect for me. The relationship went to hell not long after it started. He kicked the shit out of me weekly and told me he was the only person that would ever love me. I was constantly depressed. My arms, legs, whole body was covered in scars from slicing myself open with glass, blades anything I could get my hands on. I constantly needed to take drugs or drink to get rid of the empty numb alone feeling. We stayed together almost 2 years, got engaged (i don't even know what was going through my mind, don't ask.) I got raped while I was dating him, 2 of my close friends died a few months later. I tried to cope as best I could but he eventually just left me alone in a hostel one night and that was it, never came back. Shit just hit the fan. I couldn't cope anymore.
My life was falling to pieces and I didn't know what to do. Went to a doctor and was turned into a guinea pig for months while they just gave me a string of different anti depressants and tried to find one that worked for me. I didn't mind to much, they were pills, anything to numb the pain. Eventually after about 3 months I was referred to a psychiatrist, after a couple of weeks with him he diagnosed me with bipolar. I was glad in a way that I finally knew what was wrong with me an I just wanted to get better and not feel like a pile of shit anymore. He started me on my bipolar medication, gradually it helped bit by bit, I started drinking less over time, with regular sessions to the psychiatrist I felt like I was finally starting to get better.
I bumped into an old flame from when I was about 13, we were both 18 at this stage and we started dating. For months everything was going great, I fell head over heels in love with him and he was the same with me. I had to have regular blood tests to trace the amount of lithium in my system, you need to drink lots of water on it, the lithium passes through your urine so by not drinking enough you could have toxic levels of lithium in your body. Somewhere along those few months I missed a few tablets here and there. I was dehydrated and not drinking enough. My medication would sometimes make me drowsy or forgetful and I missed some doses.. This led to a manic episode that just fucked everything up.
I'd been living at home with my parents but we had a fucking huge fight. I went off my rocker while they were away for a weekend and broke chairs, mirrors, cleared out the entire drinks cabinet, I just couldn't control anything. They kicked off understandably, heated arguments bunch of shit was said and I left. Out on the streets with nobody in my life but my boyfriend. I stayed at a friend's for a few days, me and him stayed in different hostels, stayed on the side of the road, rarely slept. Started drinking a lot again, smoking weed constantly. I tried to kill myself one night, overdosed but my boyfriend rang an ambulance. I had to get my stomach pumped and spend 2 days in A&E hooked up to all sorts of drips. I was assesed by their psychiatric team and they came to the conclusion that I needed to be put into a mental hospital, a psychiatric unit. That I was too much of a danger to myself. They said I could go home and wait on a phonecall, and that I'd be in there for 4 weeks. I went home and smoked my brains out, shitting myself about being put in a mental institution.
Over the next 3 days, my boyfriend decided he couldn't deal with me and my baggage so he went back to his ex girlfriend who he had a kid with before we started dating. Broke my heart, felt so alone - yet again. I got called into the psych unit and was made stay there for 2 weeks. I couldn't cope without the drugs and I refused to stay there. I made it hell for them, I took any pills I could get my hands on and wreaked havoc. Eventually I left on the grounds that I would go to a few therapy and counselling sessions, before returning there in 2 weeks. I went to my first few therapy sessions, the lady was really nice, she'd been through a lot herself and she was easy to talk to. I came out of it thinking that maybe this could help..somehow.
A few days later I found out I was pregnant. For my ex who's now playing happy families with his ex girlfriend. This was last week. I'm 20 and my life's a mess I can barely look after myself, I don't care about anything I just want to die. I'm in no fit state to be raising a baby..I'm waiting to be sectioned for christ sake. I just can't cope. I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do. I'm 8 weeks gone.. what the fuck do I do? If it was under different circumstances I'd never dream of having an abortion, they're not even legal here. I don't know how to make this decision when I can't even think clearly. I'm not even sure what I'm expecting to get out of this thread but I really just don't know what the fuck else to do.
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