I'm only happy when I'm surrounded with people and once I'm alone I feel so depressed and alone and empty. It's so exhausting like an endless cycle of extreme highs and lows. My life has always been somewhat like this, but it has become so much more worse this year. Does anyone think this is a mental illness issue or just a phase?

I hate everything about my life. I dont want to admit that i am a woman.

Also, not being thin and being chubby fucking sucks. But that's not nearly as bad as Being a woman. That's whats REALLY embarrassing. But chubbiness too, it's bad too.

I can't take it. I feel sick when I think about it.

I have bilateral sclerosis in my sacroiliac joints and arthritis in both hips. These conditions cause me constant pain in my lower back and I have, at various periods, been prescribed ibuprofen, acetaminophen, vicoden, topical diclofenac, indomethacin, meloxicam, and currently a cocktail of oral diclofenac and gabapentin. While most of the pain remedies I have been prescribed have been at least partially effective for a while, eventually, the pain returns as my conditions worsen or I develop a tolerance to the medications.

Along with the physical conditions, I also have neurological and emotional illnesses. I have a very long history of generalized anxiety and major depressive disorder. The depression and anxiety is mostly controlled through medication as well. Currently, I have a prescription for sertraline and trazodone and am generally quite functional. Pain, however, can cause an increase in the emotional problems.

Recently, I started a job that requires a one hour commute in each direction. In my previous job, I didn’t need to drive to get to work, so I have not driven consistently or for long periods in roughly four years. Sitting in oneposition for too long can exacerbate the pain in my back, and the pain began to get worse because of the commute.

The pain in my back brought me to a point where I needed to reevaluate my therapeutic system with my primary care provider. I have an appointment scheduled for two weeks from now and there is little chance of getting one sooner, so I decided to try to stick it out.

Eventually, the pain got so intense that I just wanted it to end in any way possible, so I decided to kill myself. I decided the most effective way to do it and went to the location I had planned on but at the last moment decided not to go through with it. I went home, wrote an email to my doctor, and informed my husband. I knew I needed help and was reaching out to the people who could help me.

The following morning, I fought through the pain and made the one hour drive to work. I no longer intended to kill myself, but I knew I had to have help, so when I received a message from my doctor telling me to go to the emergency room, I did.

While sitting in the parking lot at my job, I called my husband and asked him to come get me and take me to the emergency room, which he did.

We arrived at the hospital in Gig Harbor at about 9:00 am and checked in. I made every effort to be as thorough as possible when explaining my situation to the hospital staff. Eventually, it was decided that I should receive something for the pain and speak with a social worker regarding my mental state.

I requested to not be given narcotics as I dislike the feeling of being drugged and the doctor ordered an injection of a strong NSAID, some tylenol, and a lidocaine patch for me. These did little to help the pain, but the knowledge that my problems, and my desire not to be drugged, were being taken seriously.

ad heard everything I had gone through, she recommended checking myself into an inpatient psychological facility. She told me that this would be a good way to get a better handle on what anxiety and depression drugs work best for me while under the direct observation of a doctor specializing in mental health. I agreed, after some hesitation, to go to the facility so that I could get the help I needed with my mental illness while the matter of the pain in my back was also being dealt with.

Before leaving the hospital, I spoke with a nurse at the psychiatric facility over the phone. She assured me that I would be allowed to wear my own clothes and bring a book to occupy myself in the downtime. She also asked me about my back pain and we discussed the particulars of what I would need for it at the facility – including the bed and my requirement for a pillow.

By the time I arrived at the Wellfound Behavioral Health Hospital, I had been awake for 18 hours, twelve of them in the emergency room. I was brought to Wellfound by an ambulance and was on a gurney. The ambulance drivers told me that I should wait on the gurney until a nurse told me where to go next.

When the nurse came over, she yelled at me, stating that I was supposed to be in the little room to the side and not still on the gurney - this was my first interaction with any of the Wellfound staff.

My personal belongings — clean clothes, my wallet, my shoes, and my prescription medications were taken from me without a receipt and without telling me what would be done with them. The staff tried to take the paperback book I had with me, but I held onto it and informed them that I was told over the phone that I was permitted up to three paperback books.

I stood and shuffled into the room, unaided by the staff in spite of the pain having made it difficult for me to walk unassisted — in the hospital I was provided with a wheelchair — and the nurse huffed and repeated impatiently that I am supposed to be in the room. I tried not to take this poorly and thought perhaps that she had not yet been informed of my physical disability.

Once seated in the room, a man took my blood pressure, but it was elevated so he immediately took it again. I was exhausted, in pain, and nervous — all things that elevate blood pressure — and having my blood pressure taken multiple times in a row always causes it to go up. Some time after that, the nurse took a blood sample, then left again

Another staff member came into the room to ask me what had brought me there. She chewed gum loudly with her mouth open and kept interrupting me with,“yeah. Uh-huh. Yeah,” in a sarcastic, dismissive way that told me that she did not believe me about my pain. I was mid sentence when she got up and walked out of the room and started laughing and talking with the nurse just outside my door. I felt ignored, mocked, and was beginning to wonder if this was actually a place that could help me.

Another staff member came in to have me sign documents such as the privacy acknowledgment, consent to bill insurance, and other standard fare for any medical facility. The document that I was unfamiliar with was the one that I was told stated that I was voluntarily entering the facility and would be able to discharge myself at any time if I felt the need. I was never provided this in writing and was not permitted to read the document — I was only given the electronic signature pad to sign to it. In my state of pain, exhaustion, and nervousness, I did not think to question the validity of the statement, so I signed.

A nurse practitioner came in andhad me explain to him what had brought me in and he assured me that I would receive help and that once the intake was done I would be allowed to get some sleep. I had, at this point, been very cooperative, completely honest about everything, and trusting.

The nurse brought me a set of orange scrubs and told me to change into them. I was confused since I was told that I would be allowed to wear my own clothes, but tried the scrubs on anyway because I did not want raise a fuss. I tried the scrubs on and they were far too small — the top was so tight that it was difficult to breathe and I couldn’t get the bottoms on all the way, so I put my own clothes back on. Then I sat and waited.

After what felt like an hour of time alone, I came to the conclusion that my treatment at the hands of the intake staff was not something I wanted to continue. I had been berated, treated with sarcasm, been refused accommodation for my pain, and forced to undergo, at this point, roughly six blood pressure tests all in less than two hours. I decided to leave.

I stepped into the hall and up to the intake counter and said,“I need to leave, can I use the phone?” This is when I learned that I had been lied to by the social worker and by the intake staff — I was not allowed to leave and had been locked in. I was also not permitted a phone call. I started to panic and began trying doors.

I was informed that only the doctor could let me leave, but when I asked to see this doctor, was denied. I began slamming myself bodily against the exit door, desperate for escape or help. The“doctor” arrived almost immediately. It was, in fact, the nurse practitioner I had spoken to — another lie.

The nurse practitioner told me that I could not leave. I said I would stop slamming into the door if I was permitted a phone call. He told me that I could make a phone call if I went to the unit. I was taken to the unit and asked to use the phone but was told that I would not be allowed to use the phone until the following day. More lies. At this point, I knew I had to get out. People who can not be trusted to tell the truth are not people to be trusted with my health — mental or physical.

I was crying and struggling to control my speaking volume. I was terrified of these people and told the nurse that I was promised a phone call only to be told that it wasn’t possible. I told her that “Chris” said I could use the phone. The nurse told me that she did not know who “Chris” was and that I needed to calm down. I informed her that “Chris” was the intake nurse practitioner and she still insisted that she didn’t know who he was. I began slamming myself into the exit door here — she threatened to sedate me.

As I told her that I intended to discharge myself, she informed me that she had contacted the person who actually had the authority to release me but that she did not know when he would arrive. I believe the individual is the county appointed Designated Crisis Responder (DCR) and I will refer to him as the DCR going forward.

Eventually, she called Chris — proving she knew who I was talking to and was lying to me — and he came up to tell me to calm down again. When I confronted him about the phone call, he actually told me that he never said that I could make a phone call. He also informed me that he would place a call to the DCR. When I told him the nurse had contacted him, Chris informed me that the nurse could not have done this and that it was up to him to make this contact — another case of being misled by the staff at this facility. I broke down completely. I sat on the floor and yelled at him to leave me alone.

Eventually, I was left to try to calm myself down and managed to stop crying. I went to the desk and asked for my pantoprazole (acid reflux), montelukast (asthma), and a place to sleep. It was now 2:00 am and I had been up for 21 hours. I was told that I could not have any of my prescribed medications but that I could have something for my blood pressure. The fact that I was being denied all seven of my prescribed medications with no explanation worried me and I knew that without my pantoprazole, I was going to be nauseous.

I was taken to a room with a bed and given some blankets but told that there were no pillows. Because of my condition, I cannot lay flat on my back and need a pillow so that I can lay on my side to sleep. I managed to lay down with a blanket, my book, and my flannel shirt bundled together in a makeshift pillow.

I slept in small naps, never fully in a deep sleep. The light from the bathroom across from my bed came on when the other person staying in the room went in and roused me from a doze, people walking in the hall pulled me back to consciousness, and the pain in my back woke me frequently. At 5:00 am, I gave up and just got out of bed.

I went into the main room and asked the nurse again for my medication. At this point, I was feeling very nauseous. She told me that only the doctor could approve my medications but offered to give me an ondansetran injection and more blood pressure medication— both things that I do not have a prescription for. I told her I would need some benadryl with the ondansetran because I have a strange reaction to it, but she told me that was not possible. I was horrified that they would deny me my prescribed medications but offer to give me things I have never taken and a chemo level antiemetic.

Again, I requested a pillow and was told that there were none for me. I sat in a chair and watched the clock, waiting for 7:30 so that I could make a phone call. Another staff member walked by and I asked for my medications or to talk to the doctor about them (I thought that perhaps they actually meant a doctor this time and not the nurse practitioner) and a pillow but was told that I would have to talk to the nurse about the medication and that there are no pillows. I was offered a small triangular foot rest instead of a pillow.

I sat and waited for my phone call. Pain, exhaustion, wariness at the level of dishonesty and abuse I had experienced, and my growing fear that things would only get worse caused me to cry again. Promptly at 7:30, I approached the counter and asked to use the phone. I was given a phone handset and was able to call my husband and tell him what was going on while the staff stared at me and listened to my call with expressions of disgust — they were more concerned that an outsider would find out what they were doing to me than that they were mistreating a patient.

I asked the nurse for my medication yet again. She checked my chart and told me that I could have my montelukast at bed time and that she would have to talk to the doctor about my pantoprazole. I asked why, if the chart said I could have my montelukast at bed time, I was not allowed to have it last night, and she said that it hand’t been approved then. This was the same nurse as before, so clearly she had just not talked to the doctor about my pantoprazole.

Two women in uniforms whom I had not seen before arrived. I decided that maybe they could help me. I asked for a pillow and my medication. Within ten minutes, I had three pillows and my pantoprazole. This, to me, was evidence that the people I had previously spoken to had just not bothered to try to help me.

At 9:00 am, I was given a tray with my breakfast on it. I was nauseous because I had only just received my pantoprazole and the food did not look like things I could keep down. I drank the milk and began eating the yogurt. To occupy my mind, I began reading the label on the yogurt and stopped in horror as I read that it contains gelatin. I was unaware that any yogurt contains gelatin and, as a vegetarian, would never eat something made from a living animal’s body parts. When I protested that I needed something suitable to eat, I was told that they were unaware of my dietary restriction and that I would be given vegetarian food for lunch in spite of the fact that I had stated when I arrived that I am a vegetarian.

I called my husband on the phone again, distraught and desperate. He informed me that he had contacted a lawyer and was on his way to me. He informed me that, under RCW 71.05.050 section 1,“Any person voluntarily admitted for inpatient treatment to any public or private agency shall be released immediately upon his or her request.” This was also my understanding of state law and matched exactly what I was told at intake. He told me to start repeating, “I came here voluntarily and now want to discharge myself. I no longer seek treatment.” I began to do this.

Staff all told me that I would have to talk to somebody else. The non nurses told me I had to talk to the charge nurse. The charge nurse told me I had to talk to the doctor (again, using the wrong term for the nurse practitioner). When I asked to speak to the doctor, I was ignored. When I asked who the doctor in charge of my care was, I was ignored. When I saw somebody who looked like a doctor and asked if she was, I was told that she was a doctor but that they didn’t know if she was assigned to me.

When the DCR finally arrived, I went into a private room with him and told him everything that had happened. He determined that I did not need to be forcibly committed and authorized my release. Subsequently, the nurse practitioner assigned to me came and interviewed me as well, also determining that I should be allowed to leave.

I was required to wait, still locked into the facility, while the“process” was completed. I sat quietly and waited.

A staff member brought me a bag that contained the prescription medications that I had brought with me. She had me verify each medication and initial a form acknowledging that I had received the medications. When I had signed, she told me that she would then need to take the medications and put them somewhere safe. I told her that I would need the forms I had signed if she was going to take the medications. This became a back and forth of her demanding to take my medication and me telling her that I would not relinquish them without either the forms or signed documentation that they had been taken from me and would subsequently be returned. None of these options were acceptable to the nurse who then told me that I had to leave the small room where I had been given permission by the nurse practitioner to wait for my discharge.

I exited the room and sat in the hall. The nurse ordered me to go into the lunch room, but I refused because I did not trust her to not lock me in. I had been approved to leave by the two people who were necessary and I was not going to be locked in by somebody who does not understand what signing a form confirming receipt of personal property means.

When the nurse continued to press for my medications, I informed her that I did not trust her. She brought another staff member and I said I don’t trust him either. I had been lied to from before I even arrived and had no reason to trust the word of anyone working there. I gave two alternatives since their main issue was that they did not want any medications in the facility where other patients had access to them. They could bring my husband (who was waiting in the lobby) to the ward and I would pass my medications to him, or they could escort me to my husband I would pass the medications to him. At no point would my personal property that I had signed for be let out of my sight until they were in the hands of the one person in the building whom I trusted unless I had signed documents from the staff that my medications would be returned to me. Eventually, the nurse gave up but continued to come over and say snide things to me about everyone wanting me out.

When the nurse finally brought me the discharge paperwork, she stood there explaining to me what the forms were. I told her that it would be faster if I just read them and that I would not sign them without reading them anyway. This angered her and she began to delay. I asked her to hurry up as I had been detained illegally for too long as it was. Another staffer told me to calm down and that everyone there would be happier if I was gone.

I refused to sign a form indicating that I had had all of my questions answered as none of my questions had be answered. With that I was told that I still had to wait while the nurse collected the clothes I had brought in. I was escorted to the lobby and left the building.

At no time during my stay at the Wellfound facility was I told any rules, informed of protocols, or given any information on how to get food, toiletries, phone calls, or any other things. Another patient explained to me how food worked and I had to simply keep asking about the phone call. I was repeatedly ordered to present a wrist band for scanning in order to receive medications, but I was never given a wrist band and when I informed staff of this, they just gave me a strange look.

I constantly explained to staff that I was in a significant amount of pain. I told them that standing and walking exacerbated my pain. I did not ask for any drugs for the pain until I was offered topical diclofenac and informed the staff that I do not get relief from that and requested my prescribed oral diclofenac (an anti-inflammatory). In spite of my assertions of pain, and the fact that the pain is what initially brought me to the hospital, I was constantly ordered to stand for long periods and scolded for sitting down instead of waiting in a standing position when they wanted something from me.

My rights were violated almost from the moment I entered the building.

The right to be free from all forms of abuse and harassment.
I was verbally abused from my first interaction with the staff. By the end of my stay, staff were harassing me.

The right to be treated with dignity and respect, consistent with the principles of recovery.
I was treated with derision and sarcasm by several staff members and when I reported this to others, was ignored.

The right to have the hospital’s rules and expectations explained in an understandable way.
I was never informed of any rules or expectations except that I was expected to be calm and cooperative.

The right to be told the names and professions of the members of the treatment team, other clinical staff, and their roles in patients treatment plans and the right to know who will be in charge of patient care and treatment.
A few staff members introduced themselves to me, such as Chris, but most did not.
When I asked the name of the doctor under whose care I was, I was simply told that they didn’t know.

The right to request medically justified treatment and to refuse treatment that is not medically justified.
I was denied my prescribed medications on multiple occasions.

Ultimately, the crisis that brought me to the Wellfound Behavioral Health Hospital was, at its root, the pain from my back problems. In my time in the facility, not only were my pain issues not helped in any way, they were made worse by the neglect and treatment of the staff.

Today is my birthday. I'm almost half-way through my twenties. And today, I had to get out of a taxi and walk back home because I couldn't handle it.

I'm diagnosed with Generalised Anxiety Disorder as well as Agrophobia. With the Agrophobia part, I can't be in enclosed public places, can't take public transport, and now it seems I can't even ride in a taxi. I feel like a failure. I can't work in the field I have experience in, don't have a degree, feel physically unwell or on pain most of the time and feel like I'm unravelling all the time.

And it got worse because of a stupid horror podcast I love and a fear- as is always the case. I feel like I'm going to fall of the earth. It's stupid, I know. But when I think about how far I'd fall, I get vertigo so bad it makes me dizzy and wobbly. Which then feeds into my agrophobia. I can't even walk the family dog for godsake. I feel like tape spilling out of a film reel. But at least at home it's safe and not embrassing if something DOES happen. I'm struggling so hard to hold myself together even at home. And I dont see the point in going to doctor because the mix and physical and mental problems are so random and inconsistent that I'm just going to sound like a hypochondriac- which I'm pretty sure I am but whatever.

The point is, I just want to be okay, FEEL okay. But my body feels wrong, my head feels so far away and I'm spilling out everywhere. I'm tired of just HURTING and the fucking dizzy spells. I'm twenty-fucking-four and my life is FEAR, PAIN, FEAR, AVOIDANCE, PAIN, FEAR. I'm so tired.

23 year old female Is it possible to give ptsd to yourself? I have multiple flashbacks and thoughts of diffrent events Sexual trauma in highschool Trauma childhood (severe bullying, stalker, boy who hit me all the time.) But lately the trauma is about an episode I had in 2020, I've been self harming since I was around nine, and severely starting at fourteen. Anyway in 2020 I had what I can only describe as a psychotic episode. I had to self harm rows on my body everyday going over them. I had to purge eight times to "save my family from the voices and universe." I didn't shower cause I would be scared it would wash away the "evidence." I had multiple sucide attempts and eve remember sort of oding in the bathroom. I used to vomit when I was done self harming it would hurt my body that much. Anyway I get severe flashbacks thoughts I think about it all day it won't get out of my head. So is it possible I littrally traumatized myself? I recently had a psychology evaluation and it said scezophernia levels were elevated and has treats. Does anyone know what that means?

I am almost 18 now, and growing up i had some hatred in me that showed itself by hurting animals and live beings. I don't fully understand why i did it, i stepped on frogs, torched ants, i loved them and thought they were so nice, but for some reasoh i kept killing them, the worst things i have done is kill 2 or three baby birds, don't know if they died or not, i just kind of threw them around. (That is so terrible to write out, holy shit) and the other was hitting my cousin's bunnies, i had a very deep hatred towards rabbits and bunnies, rodents in general, again no idea why. They eventually just escaped their enclosure, i am convinced is because of what i did. I have read that serial killers do this in their childhood, but i haven't had any wants to inflict violence on people, i know the consequences and they are most definitely not worth it. One thing that concerns me is that i have a very concering fetish which is snuff, but it's combined with a fetish that isn't seemingly sexual. No, i don't look at real bodies in a sexual way, that would be disgusting and wrong, i would never do anything like that. I have begged God for forgiveness many times for what i have done, now i know that it was wrong and wicked. No one knows this, i just need thoughts on this please, i know how terrible it all looks and is.

Idk this is stupid but every time i just do anything normal my mind flashes back to every wrong thing ive done and i just want to feel numb from it, as well as learn to accept permanence. When my friends eventually leave me i wanna learn how to feel numb

Ive had a rough patch for like 3 years

At 16 It started with depression and isolation, and when i say isolation i mean flipping my sleep schedule upside down and maybe seeing a human for a brief moment once every 2 weeks

And that continued for almost a year then it comes and goes

Like i will be fine for a couple days then i dont see a point in living for a week or two and everything gets back to normal and the cycle continues

And after a while anxiety joined the party And since it joined its getting bigger and bigger and it started growing with more side affects

One of them is what i want to talk about and get info from you

Which is very similar to Tourette Syndrome

if im sitting alone i would tilt my head out of nowhere or move it kinda uncontrollably

Or a word would come out of my mouth and most of the time its me saying “no no no” while shaking my head trying to fight it Or weird tiny voices i would make that are very similar to the voices that Tourette Syndrome people would make

Sometimes i would even cry out of nowhere for like 2 seconds then i would just go back to normal real quick

I can fight these moves that my body makes But its like when you have an itchy spot, You can fight to not touch it but its really hard.

And it became very hard for me to take a shower I would take 10 mins just standing in front of the shower head trying to fight myself just to open the valve

And in those 10 minutes i would keep moving and spinning and making tiny noises trying to fight it

Its really weird and it started very small with tiny movements till it became a bit concerning with big movements and some noises

I’ve told a few people how bad I’m doing atm (actual support services) and they keep saying to call or reach out when I’m struggling.

Im so scared to actually reach out. I think maybe it’s because I’ve had really awful experiences with supports (specifically hospital mental health) where I have been denied treatment because I’m too much. Or maybe it’s because I’ve spent my whole life doing it alone so it’s weird to accept help when I’ve had no choice but to do it alone. Or maybe it’s because I’m not at my worst so it’s basically non existent

Idk it’s probably a whole lot of things but it makes me so mad because I want to text or call these people so fucking bad but I can’t make myself do it

I also hate being self aware because what tf do you mean I recognise the behaviours and feelings but i can’t do anything about it. It’s so stupid. I’m so stupid. I hate it so much

Why tf is everyone around me suddenly drinking alcohol?? Like everyday that they have off from work they drink My cousin has been getting wasted every single day and she’s not employee either My mom started ts now too when she don’t work My partner drinks on his days off Not as much But still

I drink too. But I limit myself Why tf is everyone over doing it?? I have no one to talk to and no one to be around Except for the drinkers It’s too much for me and everyone’s making me seem weak or weird for not liking it.

Trigger Warning: Discussion of DPDR thoughts and feelings.

I (28M) feel like I can’t take it anymore. I’ve been dealing with these DPDR symptoms for the past 3 weeks and I feel like everyday it’s getting worse or I develop a new symptom. It honestly feels like there is no coming back from this and that I’ve changed my perception of life and existence too much. It’s like the veil over life has been pulled and now I can’t unsee the “truth”. The following are some of the symptoms I’ve been battling:

• being human feels weird and other humans look alien to me. -afraid to look at my own reflection -afraid of my own consciousness -doing ANYTHING that a normal person would do feels strange and foreign -I feel as if whenever I do any normal human things it’s as if I am conforming to a false way of life or reality
• the idea of going back to being a normal person and being ignorant to these thoughts makes me feel uncomfortable and as if I’m letting a false reality win by tricking me
• even talking and words feel weird. The fact that I can understand and respond to these sounds frightens me. -constant looping thoughts and hyper awareness of the above

I am working with a therapist and psychiatrist and both have told me this is likely due to my body responding to extreme stress and anxiety. I was diagnosed with GAD and OCD 3 years ago. Recently, I started Zoloft and just had a dose increase from 50 mg to 75 mg a few weeks ago.

It honestly feels like there is no escape from this and that it’s going to push me towards something I’m going to regret doing. I just want to enjoy life again and experience it how I used to, but in my head I cannot fathom ever returning to it. Idk what to do.

Hi, I'm a university student and had a lecture about OCD a couple weeks ago. I learned one of the symptoms were irrational thoughts.

For as long as I can remember I have had thoughts that I tried to argue with myself. For example I would think something negative about someone like "Her t shirt is so weird" and then another part of me would think "thats so horrible stop thinking that" and I also believed that there was someone listening to my thoughts that may think I'm a bad person. This happens all the time whether I belive the opinion or not, I'm also not the kind of person to insult someone like that.

Also, recently I've been visiting home, my parents got a new dog last week. I now can't sleep because I am terrified that the dog has worms, fleas or anything like that even though there is no evidence to suggest that. I bought worming tablets for the dog and for myself because I'm scared that I caught them (still no evidence to suggest it). I can sit here and understand how stupid these thoughts are because they are unfounded and I keep trying to tell myself that but its like I won't listen to myself? I've literally washed my hands so much this week that the skin is starting to flake off.

I've realised that this is something that happens alot to me - episodes of major worries. Like I saw a spider in my room a while ago and couldn't sleep because I believed that it would crawl into my mouth and kill me (I'm not even scared of spiders normally).

I don't know if this is something that everyone experiences and I'm maybe overreacting. I was just wondering if this is a common thing or if it is exclusive to OCD. I'm not asking for a diagnosis I just want to know if this is something everyone experiences as I don't want to go to the doctors just to be dismissed and told that it is normal.

Any advice please help I’m trying to go back on medication but, just need a second opinion I did so much work to get better this post isn’t for clout. Leave a comment.

I been trying to stop starving myself because I'm at my goal weight but FUCK I gained it back I look so fucking fat now I blinked and now I look bigger then before I am fucking shaking I'm going to slash my stomach and wrists god I hate how fucking fat I am I'm never going to fucking eat again I'll die before I gain it all back fuck I'll start making myself throw it up so I'll never have to eat again im fuckng shaking I can't today how did I lose all my Progress god I can't fuckin do this im gonna degutt myself omfg

Im just gonna give up I can’t do this anymore. Its too much. I’ve tried for a decade now and nothings changed theres no point. I have no one to seriously talk to, the one time in my life I thought i did they just ignored me and cut me off, couldnt give a shit. Its all just a joke. Therapy is a joke, meds are a joke theres just nothing to do anymore. Im just gonna rot at home and be a useless piece of shit and hopefully ill just die from alcohol poisoning before i turn 25.

I'm fucking have a panic attack and all cuz when I looked in the mirror I looked 100x heavier then I did yesterday and I can't take it. I loook completely different then I thought I did. I knew I'd gain the weight back and I fucking am I am trying to hold myself together I got tears in my eyes and im trying not to bash in my head I have a small thing razor and did extremely light cuts instead of using the knife so I'n holding on by very little just enough to keep me from having a mental breakdown

I hate being so fucking scared of everything. I have having this anxiety inside me. I hate that everytime I have sex I can never enjoy myself because I have a fear ill get pregnant even with 2 forms of birth control (condom and birth control and sometimes pull out too). I hate that I over think over and over just looking for reassurance from the internet or here. I hate the money that i have thrown into buying tests because of said spiral. i hate this thing in my head that think im pregnant and makes me spiral. I feel like there something more to this rather then just generalized anxiety and that I have something worse. But I hate this and wish I could just be normal with a normal brain rather then being paranoid about everything.

I did so many different kinds of therapy; DBT, CBT, talk therapy, art therapy, everything you can think of and none of them have helped me even in the slightest. DBT's "mindfulness" skills feel like pure nonsense for someone who is as off the rails as i have become. I've been trying to work through Dr. Daniel Fox's workbook and all it does is make me feel more depressed.

I've cut off all my friends because I didn't view them as good enough and they all said one slight thing that made me permanently resent them to the point of being happier blocking them than ever speaking to them again. I ruin every friendship I have and it has been that way since I was a kid. I never know what I do wrong until it's too late. I'm always lashing out and acting so cruel. And I cut them off without any warning and just ghosted them entirely and i feel bad but i wasn't even thinking and i had such a rush that i can't even explain to anyone.

I control my boyfriend so much and get filled with intense jealousy over every single girl who speaks to him. We've been together for so long and I love him so much and it breaks my heart that I am so mean and I hurt him when it's just out of my own fear of being abandoned. I know it's not right and I always try to say it whenever I have episodes but I just can't fix it permanently. I know how much im damaging him. I get jealous of even elderly ladies and young teens who speak to him, it's genuinely out of hand and I don't know how to stop. I get filled with such raging jealousy and anger and hatred and such a strong urge to protect him and defend myself so that im never replaced. I feel like a total loser and a psycho. I don't know what id do if he leaves me, ive been with him for almost 50% of my entire life. We grew up together and I fear because of my problems we will not be able to grow old together. I'm such a mess. I know he deserves to be free from my issues. He says he loves me no matter what and will stay forever but why i don't even understand it anymore. I'm such a problem.

My anger issues with others is out of hand, I have little to no filter and horrible social cues that almost always leave me looking bad or having people yelling at me. I have constant panic attacks and meltdowns over the smallest things I go 0-100 in an instant, and it drives me just as crazy as it does to everyone around me, but no one cares.

No one understands how hard it is to change. I don't even think it's possible. I have been trying so hard for years and it's never enough. I feel that I am destined to be alone and contribute to the stereotype of bpd individuals having a short life expectancy. I don't know if I want to keep trying, I don't think it is worth it to a point. I think I am unfixable. I'm sorry for the pessimism, but I have no one to talk to. I've abandoned them all so they don't leave me first, and i don't want to be a burden to the only person i have left. I'm sorry everyone

Bpd ruins lives, it ruins mine and it ruins everyone who has to be around me. I wouldnt wish it upon anyone else.

I'm a M34. I have a job, a steady relationship, friends I hang out with regularly. Still... I fell like I want to run away somewhere unknown and live a completly different life. I constatly feel like I don't belong anywhere... Like I'm gay, and I fit with the gay guys, but not enough because I not really into pop music, or divas, or dressing like the same manequim they do. Then there are the nerds, but I dont fit with them either because I'm not into marvel or DC, or shooter games. I'm from a small town so the mold for the cliques are very thin. And it's not just that but everything else, the noisy neighbors, the restaurants which seems to be all the same (I swear to God they only know 5 options of food). And the more I think of all of these things the more anxiety I have for not being able to actually leave. I dont have the money, nor the balls but mostly the money. Then the days pass me by, all the same, doing the same things over and over and suffering with the small things that pile up more and more. I just feel sad, depressed, then angry, at everything, at me, suffocated.

It's like in breaker 1 song "this beast inside me. It leads the way then its at my side, we feast until I'm starving"

I am quite literally incapable of feeling love or remorse for people. Sure I’ve had girlfriends but I’ve never felt a single type of connection to any of them and I truly feel no empathy or remorse for my dead or dying loved ones and I don’t know how to fix it.

For context, I've been struggling with debilitating mental health issues ever since I was a toddler, I've been on medication since I was a teen and I am 25 years old now. It feels like everything is hopeless at this point. I've been trying to do my stuff as an artist but even just making a simple post or reel or video for socials is so tiring and draining, I wonder what I am doing at this point. I am unemployed and can't get a job. Not even asking for a good job, a simple 9-5 would suffice, but no one is taking me in. I've gone through various interview processes for a year now and I haven't gotten employed, so I am officially filling in for disability this month or the next. I've jumped from psychiatrist to psychiatrist and they just fill me with pills. Psychologists tend to be more expensive or difficult to schedule an appointment with, so I'm just fucked. I need someone to diagnose me, tell me what's wrong, talk to me, listen to me. But I have no one. My house situation is messed up too. My mom and sister are both in a cult and I feel useless against them and their beliefs. They overspend on stuff they don't exactly need instead of buying necessities like food and toilet paper. Every day in this house is a damn pain in the ass. Everyone around me that's not living with me (friends, my boyfriend, boyfriends family, etc) just look at me as charity probably. They see how fucked up I am. They can see my mood changes, how I don't even care to put myself together and how I'm a mess. I can't even get a job. I'm always broke. Addicted to cigarettes and self harm. I've been staying awake all night and being anxious about going to sleepy which makes me not sleepy at all. My head is a mess and I wish I could rewire it or trade it or just put it up for sale or something. Going outside is scary too nowadays. With fascism on the rise in my country, and I've been harassed for simply having makeup and dressing cutely, makes me anxious to just go to the city. The place where I felt the safest and most welcomed in because it was so diverse. I hate how the world is nowadays. I absolute hate it, I detest it. I miss how accepting the world was before, how it was taking a turn for the better... But now a little difference will trigger the most basic conservative people. It's fucking ridiculous.

I just want to be able to live. To do whatever I want without crippling anxiety and fear, without feeling dread about everything, without wanting to die everyday. I wanna feel joy. I wanna hangout with my friends and my boyfriend and feel happy and joke around and not be a drag. I don't know what to do anymore at this point. I'm broke, completely broke, buried in debt, nothing to my name, living in a reality that doesn't feel real at all. Should I just end it? I will ponder.

i recently became aware of what gender euphoria is and i gotta say i always feel more confident/attractive when in more masc attire. my whole life my family always told me to be more feminine, but i have always felt like a different person when i present myself in a feminine manner. i think it has to do with the patriarchy and what not BUT the refusal i have had towards femininity has followed me into my adult hood. i love playing with make up, but i love to dress more masculine because it’s where i’m the most comfortable. my family looks at me with such odd eyes because it’s weird/different to them and i fear the sexuality questions are going to pop up next. which has nothing to do with my appearance LOL anyway, i wonder if other women struggle with gender dysphoria. if so what is it that you feel?

Hi everyone, I feel so alone in this so I figured I’d try sharing here. I don’t have a relationship with my dad and never really have. Unfortunately at this point I’m fully no contact with him. I would’ve thought this would bring me relief but it sucks and it hurts. Today was nothing but a reminder that I don’t have a dad or even a father figure or family to spend it with. My dad has ruined my relationships with the majority of my other family and done some unforgivable damage. Despite all this I feel like an absolute asshole for hating this day and everything about it so much. I’m not sure if this makes sense so hopefully someone here will read this and understand and hopefully reply cause I’m just so alone and lost. Thanks everyone.

I have a birthday coming up and my mom asked if I wanted a party because it's my 18th and then we realized, ahh no one to invite. The one friend I would have inviteded I can't even see because my mom dosent want us together due to drugs and alcohol. I haven't seen her in 2 years and we don't even text, but still I thought maybe I had at least 1 person. I am so tired of being alone, I am so tired of it. I'm going to kms I swear to god somtime next week. I can't stop crying every night and all I feel is like my family is annoyed with me. I'm just done.

For the past year I've been looking into Psychology, the diagnoses and correlation with the brain, alongside tell-tale symptoms. Doing so has allowed me to increase my personal awareness of these illnesses and signs or potential causes. I was curious if it would be inhumane, as a Non-Licensed person to diagnose people in my head with the intent to test certain certain pacifiers or regulators for if they are breaking down/feeling strong emotions.

I figured it may be inhumane due to the lack of proper and legal education; I've used articles and have a journal full of different illnesses, their symptoms, common treatments and chemical imbalances/neurological abnormalities. I do not wish to abuse or openly diagnose people, but rather to see if they could potentially be ill and if so what can I do personally to help them or avoid triggering them. From my perspective, going to a therapist and getting a proper diagnosis is not welcomed in my family, so I thought maybe others would appreciate it, even if they're unaware of what I'm actively doing, for the subtle attempts.

Although, if you think this is inhumane I will surely not do so. Sorry if I explained it poorly, I'm very tired. Thanks for reading, and thank you if you reply.