This post has been going around on Facebook for a few years. I don't mind when I see posts like this, more than once, because I know the message is getting across. I pray that it puts guilt into the lives of those who are bullies!
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Sunday, May 18, 2014
"I want to die"
"Life is hell"
"Why am I even here?"
"No one cares about me!"
"I can't handle this"
"I don't want to do this"
"Who am I?"
"Why don't they understand?"
These are all things I used to think. They were emotions that I felt, and struggled to tell anyone about. My childhood wasn't rough, but as child, I felt like nothing I said mattered. I was a silent lamb at school. I was in special ed, and was too scared to stand up to my bullies. I was a scared child. At home, I would scream and yell and cry and stomp and slam doors, because I felt more comfortable to express my feelings there. However, I never had the guts to say that I hated being bullied at school, and coming home to be bullied by my brothers was just too much. I needed the men (my brothers) in my life to tell me that they loved me. I would find out in later years that for most of my teenage years, I chose the wrong guys to "fall in love" with. Every time a relationship got messy, I blamed myself.
One of the most usefull things I learnt in high school was the topic of mental illnesses, however it meant that I had something to blame my hormones on. I somehow convinced myself that I was depressed. I wasn't depressed, not clinically. I wanted to be, so I could grab attention. I was low, I was down, and my hormones were making me crazy.
The year I turned 14 I decided to follow Jesus. God used youth group and SMASH camp, to change my life. Unfortunately, I'm human, and I kept falling into a deep pit.
To cut a long story short, I soon realised how much I was feeling sorry for myself, but I was (and still am) convinced that I couldn't help the way my emotions were messing me around. During the first couple of years of adulthood, I spent almost every week in counselling. I am ashamed to admit that I was self harming. I visited the doctor, and he prescribed me with half strength anti depressants, to calm my anxiety attacks. After a couple of weeks, the medicine started to train my brain to think more clearly. I joined a website in which I could pay to talk to any medical professional. I spoke to a psychiatrist a few times, and he came to the conclusion that I probably had Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) http://www.sane.org/information/factsheets-podcasts/160-borderline-personality-disorder I had never heard of it, but it fit. I may not have been diagnosed, but After a lot of research, I was more and more convinced that it was my diagnosis.
I'm on full strength anti depressants now, and I'm not afraid any more. I can feel my brain thinking more clearly. I'm now able to focus on my Dad in heaven now.
It's ok to be on anti depressants, they aren't a burden, they are a blessing!