T
Tomoko
Member
- Joined
- Nov 12, 2008
- Messages
- 17
Hello. I’m writing because, simply: I need to, and secondly because I really would like advice. I know this is long, but I sincerely appreciate anyone who reads this. This is the tip of the ice berg...
I always had intense mood swings, and sleep problems.
Then my Grandma died when I was 8. I slept less than two hours a night. I couldn’t think. I acted, without being able to stop, on impulse. Eventually I had severe delusions.
I was sent to a behavioural unit for children, after planning to commit suicide. Upon release, it was determined that it was the death of my Grandma which had caused this episode.
But my moods got rapidly worse after that, not better.
For months I’d withdraw from everyone and desperately unhappy.
Sometimes slowly, sometimes suddenly my moods would change. Back then it was normal waking up suddenly feeling ‘better’ and starting to ‘live’ again. I’d sleep very little.
When I was thirteen I had a ‘big outburst’. I ran away to Manchester. I felt invincible. Returning home a week later, exhausted, disorientated, in the same clothes...and with my nipple pierced. No one knew what had happened or where I’d been.
I, again, lapsed in to (clinical) depression.
Months later, I went on a school trip to France (even though I had no passport).
In France, my friends were in awe by my lack of fear. We had a party. I bought 30 cans of beer at a vending machine while the teachers were in the same room. Nobody knew how I had managed it. I also took the keys so no one could get in, but the students.
Eventually teachers came with the manager’s keys. The police came. It was discovered I had no passport. I was sent back to England and expelled from school.
I began using drugs and drinking to self medicate.
Every time my mood was ‘up’ I lived in squats etc, every time I went ‘low’ I crept back to my mum’s and hid.
I went back to school. I was expelled again within weeks.
I was sent to a ‘special’ school, but got expelled.
I was sent to another ‘special’ school.
When I turned sixteen I messed my GCSEs up. I couldn’t stop, I was reckless, even more impulsive. Eventually I went ‘crazy’ in a supermarket, cut my arms, ran and hid for a night under a canal bridge. Eventually I took myself to hospital shivering, blood soaked and confused. Nobody asked why I had hurt myself. I was just stitched up and sent out.
I had no job, no money, no real home and no qualifications.
I should’ve been miserable. I wasn’t...I had new ideas, new dreams suddenly.
: I wanted to go to College. The college required a person had five GCSEs all at grades A-C. I had one GCSE, an awful school record, and police cautions.
But I KNEW I had to be at college. Sure enough, twenty minutes later I walked out of the interview with a full time place studying five A levels.
This is what life is like when I’m at my best. I can excel at most things I do, and I have, but then I crash.
I got all As in that first year, and also got a job, moved back in with my mum.
Then my Brother attempted suicide for the third time. He moved back home.
and my brother began using a lot of speed and were drinking a lot. Everything was in my control. I was partying, studying, working.
I crashed, again.
My tutors used to find me asleep in winter outside of college, or collapsed in the toilets. I used to turn up wasted and get sent away.
I went to the doctor. I cried, broke down. I ASKED FOR HELP. He said it was ‘exam stress’ and told me to calm down.
I lost interest in college. I’d been so low for about two months, and had lost my university place at Bath University through messing up my exams, but suddenly it didn’t matter.
I had a new dream.
I just knew I had to go to London. My best friend was tired of my ‘mad ideas’, but I didn’t care. I emailed a London university asking for a place, even though I hadn’t the qualifications.
I was so confident, I didn’t even bother going through the application process.
Within twenty four hours I’d been given a full time place on a BA Hons Degree course without even formally applying. I knew I was good at ‘blagging’. This just strengthened my belief that I was capable of anything.
I packed a bag and went 300 miles to London, took the first room I saw advertised, rang about student loans and two weeks later I was in my lectures.
Amazing turned to desperate within a month. Why was I in London?
I packed a bag and in my head I just ’knew’ I had to go to Europe. I was going to travel the world and write amazing books about it. I got up to leave (in my pjs).
Two friends stopped me, by physical force.
The ups and downs were becoming closer together, shorter lasting, more intense. Sometimes I was insanely happy, fiercely confident and at the same time in despair, raging, angry. I drank more to try and escape.
I ended up in hospital with septicaemia, jaundice, kidney failure and dehydration. I was raving and disorientated. Even then nobody called a mental health professional to see me. I was just told if I kept drinking that I would die.
For a month after that I felt clear headed for the first time in years. I wasn’t up or down. I was just coping.
I met a guy, and we moved in together. Within a year we were addicted to heroin.
There was no up or downs anymore, just gear. No real feelings.
I overdosed so many times. I didn’t care if I died.
The first time I tried to quit heroin, I left London. I got clean, but experienced the worst ‘moment’ or incident I’ve known.
I still can’t remember much of that ‘incident’, but the police caught me trying to jump off a bridge. I had no logical thought. I felt like a black fog was passing over my mind. In moments I was clear headed, for the most part I was delusional. I thought everyone was out ‘to get me’. I fought the police. I had no recollection of where I had been or what I had done.
I went cold turkey, again a year later.
There’s usually a long period of depression after heroin withdrawal. Not for me. I felt unstoppable. I’d forgotten how good it felt to be ‘up’, and I was up.
I came back to London, to uni, to my boyfriend. I got numerous jobs, I used drugs, I had sex with numerous people, I went on shopping sprees.
After just three weeks, I lost it again.
I burst into tears, threw my partner out by his hair, threw his belongings out the window, screamed, cried...and fell apart.
I never got back with my now ex-partner.
I’d booked a driving test. I forced myself to leave the flat, to go. I was still parting, having affairs, shopping. I was so desperate, but I couldn’t stop.
I got half way through the driving test, stopped the car, burst in to tears and ran away. Next thing I knew I was in a field without a coat shivering cold. I felt crazy. I had to escape.
My mum says she has been waiting for me to kill myself for seven years. My friends don’t understand why I do these things.
I’ve tried to cope with this, hide it, laugh it off, but I can’t anymore.
Will power is what gets and keeps an addict clean. I know that because I am clean, but all this will power...and I can’t change. I have no control.
Bipolar runs in both my Mother and Father’s family. Three of my cousins, who were bipolar, have committed suicide in the past decade. They were all under the age of thirty.
I am 20. I have been diagnosed years ago with with depression, M.E. when I was ‘low’ and ‘insomnia’ when I was ‘up’.
Advice? Please, anything.
I always had intense mood swings, and sleep problems.
Then my Grandma died when I was 8. I slept less than two hours a night. I couldn’t think. I acted, without being able to stop, on impulse. Eventually I had severe delusions.
I was sent to a behavioural unit for children, after planning to commit suicide. Upon release, it was determined that it was the death of my Grandma which had caused this episode.
But my moods got rapidly worse after that, not better.
For months I’d withdraw from everyone and desperately unhappy.
Sometimes slowly, sometimes suddenly my moods would change. Back then it was normal waking up suddenly feeling ‘better’ and starting to ‘live’ again. I’d sleep very little.
When I was thirteen I had a ‘big outburst’. I ran away to Manchester. I felt invincible. Returning home a week later, exhausted, disorientated, in the same clothes...and with my nipple pierced. No one knew what had happened or where I’d been.
I, again, lapsed in to (clinical) depression.
Months later, I went on a school trip to France (even though I had no passport).
In France, my friends were in awe by my lack of fear. We had a party. I bought 30 cans of beer at a vending machine while the teachers were in the same room. Nobody knew how I had managed it. I also took the keys so no one could get in, but the students.
Eventually teachers came with the manager’s keys. The police came. It was discovered I had no passport. I was sent back to England and expelled from school.
I began using drugs and drinking to self medicate.
Every time my mood was ‘up’ I lived in squats etc, every time I went ‘low’ I crept back to my mum’s and hid.
I went back to school. I was expelled again within weeks.
I was sent to a ‘special’ school, but got expelled.
I was sent to another ‘special’ school.
When I turned sixteen I messed my GCSEs up. I couldn’t stop, I was reckless, even more impulsive. Eventually I went ‘crazy’ in a supermarket, cut my arms, ran and hid for a night under a canal bridge. Eventually I took myself to hospital shivering, blood soaked and confused. Nobody asked why I had hurt myself. I was just stitched up and sent out.
I had no job, no money, no real home and no qualifications.
I should’ve been miserable. I wasn’t...I had new ideas, new dreams suddenly.
: I wanted to go to College. The college required a person had five GCSEs all at grades A-C. I had one GCSE, an awful school record, and police cautions.
But I KNEW I had to be at college. Sure enough, twenty minutes later I walked out of the interview with a full time place studying five A levels.
This is what life is like when I’m at my best. I can excel at most things I do, and I have, but then I crash.
I got all As in that first year, and also got a job, moved back in with my mum.
Then my Brother attempted suicide for the third time. He moved back home.
and my brother began using a lot of speed and were drinking a lot. Everything was in my control. I was partying, studying, working.
I crashed, again.
My tutors used to find me asleep in winter outside of college, or collapsed in the toilets. I used to turn up wasted and get sent away.
I went to the doctor. I cried, broke down. I ASKED FOR HELP. He said it was ‘exam stress’ and told me to calm down.
I lost interest in college. I’d been so low for about two months, and had lost my university place at Bath University through messing up my exams, but suddenly it didn’t matter.
I had a new dream.
I just knew I had to go to London. My best friend was tired of my ‘mad ideas’, but I didn’t care. I emailed a London university asking for a place, even though I hadn’t the qualifications.
I was so confident, I didn’t even bother going through the application process.
Within twenty four hours I’d been given a full time place on a BA Hons Degree course without even formally applying. I knew I was good at ‘blagging’. This just strengthened my belief that I was capable of anything.
I packed a bag and went 300 miles to London, took the first room I saw advertised, rang about student loans and two weeks later I was in my lectures.
Amazing turned to desperate within a month. Why was I in London?
I packed a bag and in my head I just ’knew’ I had to go to Europe. I was going to travel the world and write amazing books about it. I got up to leave (in my pjs).
Two friends stopped me, by physical force.
The ups and downs were becoming closer together, shorter lasting, more intense. Sometimes I was insanely happy, fiercely confident and at the same time in despair, raging, angry. I drank more to try and escape.
I ended up in hospital with septicaemia, jaundice, kidney failure and dehydration. I was raving and disorientated. Even then nobody called a mental health professional to see me. I was just told if I kept drinking that I would die.
For a month after that I felt clear headed for the first time in years. I wasn’t up or down. I was just coping.
I met a guy, and we moved in together. Within a year we were addicted to heroin.
There was no up or downs anymore, just gear. No real feelings.
I overdosed so many times. I didn’t care if I died.
The first time I tried to quit heroin, I left London. I got clean, but experienced the worst ‘moment’ or incident I’ve known.
I still can’t remember much of that ‘incident’, but the police caught me trying to jump off a bridge. I had no logical thought. I felt like a black fog was passing over my mind. In moments I was clear headed, for the most part I was delusional. I thought everyone was out ‘to get me’. I fought the police. I had no recollection of where I had been or what I had done.
I went cold turkey, again a year later.
There’s usually a long period of depression after heroin withdrawal. Not for me. I felt unstoppable. I’d forgotten how good it felt to be ‘up’, and I was up.
I came back to London, to uni, to my boyfriend. I got numerous jobs, I used drugs, I had sex with numerous people, I went on shopping sprees.
After just three weeks, I lost it again.
I burst into tears, threw my partner out by his hair, threw his belongings out the window, screamed, cried...and fell apart.
I never got back with my now ex-partner.
I’d booked a driving test. I forced myself to leave the flat, to go. I was still parting, having affairs, shopping. I was so desperate, but I couldn’t stop.
I got half way through the driving test, stopped the car, burst in to tears and ran away. Next thing I knew I was in a field without a coat shivering cold. I felt crazy. I had to escape.
My mum says she has been waiting for me to kill myself for seven years. My friends don’t understand why I do these things.
I’ve tried to cope with this, hide it, laugh it off, but I can’t anymore.
Will power is what gets and keeps an addict clean. I know that because I am clean, but all this will power...and I can’t change. I have no control.
Bipolar runs in both my Mother and Father’s family. Three of my cousins, who were bipolar, have committed suicide in the past decade. They were all under the age of thirty.
I am 20. I have been diagnosed years ago with with depression, M.E. when I was ‘low’ and ‘insomnia’ when I was ‘up’.
Advice? Please, anything.