 |
| Stories Of |
| Mental health problems usually occur as a result of something, and I am anticipating that most people who come here who have mental health problems, that they will be a result of bullying or some type of abuse. The only way to get over these problems brought on by abuse is to talk, unfortunately. The after effects of abuse can be devastating and can last for a very long time. This is the place to tell your story of mental health problems and if you have overcome them, how you did it. Just remember, there is always hope - millions have overcome problems and so can you. |
 |
| Rose's Story I think my mental health problems began when I was being abused and bullied. I didn't recognise this at the time though. I realised I felt so bad I wanted to die, but didn't really know that this could have been depression setting in. I read a magazine article when I was 14 about depression and felt exactly what it was describing. I did a bit of research on the Internet and decided to go my GP. I was going frequently anyway for other reasons and it took a lot of courage to one day go and say I think I might be depressed. I finally did it though and my GP referred me to the nearest Young People's Services to see someone. I saw a male CPN but after the first visit I wanted to change because I really didn't want to talk to a male. I then saw a female psychiatrist. I was put on anti depressants - Sertraline. I didn't really like the woman I saw and I was sort of her guinea pig, because she came from adult services and she was being tried out as a young people's Dr on me. I didn't really get anywhere with her and eventually had to leave her because of timing problems. Things then begin to get a bit blurry and I was becoming increasingly depressed. It was about the start of 2000 I think and I had been cutting myself for a while. I was referred back to the YPD to see a social worker. A CPN sat in on the meeting. After that first meeting it was decided that I would see the CPN instead, because I was cutting myself and they thought it would be more appropriate. I think it was about April 2000 by then and my cutting was becoming progressively worse, I was cutting my stomach and all of the cuts needed stitching, which I didn't get. I was very depressed, my medication was changed to Paroxetine. I had quite an unusual reaction to this medication though, I developed tremors and severe muscle twitches, the effects are permanent, so I will have them forever now, even though my medication was again changed to Fluoxetine. From April - November 2000, I honestly have almost no memory of what happened. When I think about it, it is scary because there really is a big black hole. It was just a blur of severe depression, planning my suicide, visits to the psychiatrist and visits to accident and emergency. People only seemed to realise that I was actually ill though when my school said my work was dropping and when my mum found me hysterical in my bedroom. She just found me one day, it was in August I think, I should have been at school, I don't actually know why I wasn't, I really cant remember. I was completely hysterical though, she called the Dr, asked for sedatives and everything. Then for the next week I didn't move, and this was one of the worst times ever. I lay in my bed for an entire week, I didn't move, I didn't eat, I drank what was given to me and I didn't shower. I just lay staring at the wall, I can't even remember, I was told all this. After this I remember nothing, other than me cutting myself. I could not even remember this sometimes. I was cutting myself very severely, almost ending my life without even meaning to. It is true that generally people harm themselves as a way of living, to keep themselves going. I don't know where I was though. I cut myself and I knew somewhere inside me that I could die, but I didn't care. It was more a case of I'm going to cut myself, if I die, that's a bonus, but if I don't there's always next time. This is honestly what I thought. More often than not I was in accident and emergency receiving countless stitches from Doctors who couldn't give a damn. I missed days of school because I had lost so much blood the night before that I was so ill I could hardly move and my Dr was taking even more blood to see if I needed a blood transfusion yet. Sometimes I blacked out while I was cutting and I woke up the next morning with blood everywhere and realised what I had done - I didn't have any memory of actually cutting myself though. When I type this I still cannot really see the enormity of what was happening, and it doesn't really scare me much either, just like it didn't scare me at all when it was happening. Somewhere along the line, I started eating less and less, until I was hardly eating anything and I started to lose weight slowly but surely. I was also ill all the time, during 2000 I had countless infections - the flu twice, a throat infection, the mumps, and many more I cannot even remember. I also had a lot of infected cuts, one of which was particularly severe and I was almost in hospital on an antibiotic drip, were it not for the fact that I was staying at my aunties and the Dr was extremely cruel to me and didn't think I was worth the bother of a hospital admission. I hadn't slept for more an hour a night for months, and I actually felt like I was dying. I would have done anything for some sleep, honestly anything, I felt like it was killing me slowly and I was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion. I eventually got some sleeping tablets, tried 3 different kinds, none of which worked too well. I was also taking a lot of other tablets a night, hoping they would make me sleep, anything I could get my hands on basically. Then finally in November 2000 it was decided that I was to be admitted to Hospital as an inpatient. I agreed to this, partly because I was so tired and couldn't carry on any more and partly because my psychiatrist said I was on the verge of being sectioned anyway because of the huge risk I was putting myself in, and it was better to go in under my own free will. So I went into hospital, my medication was changed again to Mirtazapine. I can't remember my first few months in hospital, but then slowly things started to improve as my depression lifted. My self-harm decreased in severity, but I was still doing it quite frequently, unbeknown to the staff. I was feeling better and was able to function but I still had no self-esteem, and a lot of abuse issues. Another problem then kicked in though - anxiety. I had had panic attacks a few times before, but now I was feeling anxiety everyday, about nothing and everything. I just felt permanently on edge and worried about everything excessively. I also had various other problems during my stay in hospital. At one point I started to hear voices, telling me I was useless and worthless and that I should kill myself. So that weekend, on my pass home, I slit both my wrists and tried to kill myself - I thought it would make them go away. I had to go to the Dr to be stitched up and was then put under 24hour watch, which was quite awful. I had a lot of other difficulties along the way, but finally made it out in August 2001, after spending 9 months in the hospital. Leaving was extremely hard, because I got on very well with everyone there, the staff were so wonderful, but it had to happen sometime. My depression was significantly better as was my self-harm, although I was still doing it sometimes. Everyone thought I had resolved my abuse significantly, but they couldn't have been more wrong there. Yes I did report some of my abuse to the police, but felt extremely pressured into it, and now I regret it more than anything, it was one of the biggest mistakes I feel I have ever made. So anyway, I came out of hospital and went straight back to school, which was not as hard as I would have imagined, home life was in fact the hardest bit. All the abuse issues came back with a vengeance as the police investigated carried on, and I feel this part of my life is worse than it has ever been. My anxiety also continued and I have been diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I am still taking my Mirtazapine and am now also taking Atenolol (a beta-blocker) for my anxiety, which has become much worse recently. I suffer from quite severe fatigue, and was investigated for chronic fatigue syndrome, but nothing came of it. I also get a lot of joint pain and muscle pain. The effects of abuse still affect me everyday, I have flashbacks, nightmares, dissociation, and a lot of other things. I see my CPN (community psychiatric nurse) once a week to try and sort all my issues out, but I am not getting very far, and it's going very slowly. Food I suppose is a bit of an issue for me, it always has been. I also find going out and socialising very hard. I really enjoy spending time with my friends, but going out with people I don't know is something I never do. I still struggle with my self-harm and impulses to do it. I still do things to hurt myself but they are not nearly as damaging as they used to be. I'm sure there is more to say, although not that much. This is pretty much my story, and it is still ongoing. I am better than I used to be, depression wise, but things are from far over and I fear my depression etc. will return before I finally get everything sorted out. Just now however, things are going well and I feel pretty much happy. |
 |
|
 |
| Mental Health Problems |