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You're all very encouraging, thank you.

I do have trouble being the mother I'd like to be for my son and my depression is my greatest enemy when it comes to that. My mother was not the best when it came to showing me that she loved me, and I have a great fear of doing that to my son. I hug him, and I give him kisses and I try to show him a lot of affection. I tell him I love him many, many, times over the course of everyday. I want him to know that even though mommy is sick, even though mommy is sad and angry sometimes, that I still love him more than anything. 

My SO and I have been together for 5 years, and we've had our share of problems together...a lot of it I think is that he has his own inner battles he's struggling with. I don't think he realizes that he has any issues though, and that's the bigger problem. I'm battling with our relationship while also battling my own problems and frankly, I'm exhausted.

I try to remind myself that I've been through a lot worse, but then I can't help thinking that I shouldn't have to go through any of this at all. That even though it would be very hard at first, if I walked away, eventually it would be easier for me to concentrate on myself. It just adds to all of my depression and my stress, because it's not just my relationship or me that's suffering, it's also my son.
   

Thank you both for the kind words.

It's been a rough journey so far, and I know that it usually gets harder before it gets better, but man...

Truthfully, I've been avoiding my self improvement lately...and I think it's because I'm just exhausted already. It's not that I don't want to improve, because I want that more than anything. I guess I just didn't expect it to be as hard as it has been....but already with this forum I am relating with the posts I'm reading and I'm realizing that I'm not as alone as I once was...so hopefully it helps.

I just joined this forum today on a whim, thinking it might be good for me. I have spent my whole life trying to diagnose myself, to find out whats wrong with me because my mother has told me ever since I can remember that there is something wrong with me (in so many words- she's a nurse so naturally she has a diagnoses for everything-usually it's worse case scenario). She still insists to this day that I might be high functioning Autistic....which even my therapist says is absurd. I've been diagnosed as Bi-Polar, MDD and ADHD. I've looked into just about every mental illness out there to try and figure out whats been going on inside my head. Just recently I've started seeing a trauma therapist and she said that everything can be explained by PTSD. I've never been so hopeful in my life. It's all starting to make sense.

I've never understood all of the rage inside of me. I've known that it's there, and that when it's triggered I can turn into an uncontrollable monster...but, I never knew why. I'm a great person, I have an amazing personality, and I'm proud of that. Despite all of the abuse I am a social butterfly and I am humble, kind, generous, funny, compassionate....I give everything I have and more...

But it can change so fast if you know what button to push, what wound to poke...and all of the sudden I don't recognize myself...or the sound of my voice. I say things, no...I scream things I can't remember and I can't be touched because it sets my soul on fire and I just want to run away as far as my feet can take me.

I'm finally starting to understand. The weird thing is that I'm excited and hopeful for the change that is coming in my life because of this new therapy, but I'm also terrified. I am scared because I don't know any other way...I don't know how to be anything but sad, and angry and lost.

Here's to surviving...and someday actually living.

I've noticed the same things in myself, but they seem almost destructive... I have Trichotillomania; it's a compulsion to pull your hair. It's not pretty. I've gotten better as an adult but I still find myself doing it when I'm having a particularly bad day. Or I'll pick at my cuticles. I'm looking into finding a hobby where I use my hands a lot, to distract from picking at myself. Like, knitting, or something.     

Thank you for the support 

I've felt very alone in all of this for so long that it gives me a glimmer of hope to find people that can truly relate to me.

Someday, I'll be able to live life instead of just surviving it. 

-I've read this over a few times since I posted it because I tend to obsess over these things... "Did i say that right? Will they understand what I mean? Do I come across this way or that way?" ...and I just realized how unemotional it all really sounds. I guess I didn't realize I had distanced myself so much from the feelings that come with these memories. That's weird to me since it feels like my whole world revolves around whats happened to me. To be honest, the past few months have been really hard to deal with. My depression is so deep that I haven't really left the safety of my bed in almost 5 days...and then it makes me feel even worse about myself because I have my son to take care of. Don't get me wrong, he's clothed, fed, bathed...I give him hugs and kisses and tell him how much I love him...but I don't have the energy or the patience to play with him, or sit at the table and eat with him...I feel like I'm slowly drowning. I know I am getting help but I'm still terrified that I'm going to be living the rest of my life feeling the way that I do.-   

My history is rich with trauma. I'm only 26 but I could swear I've survived more than two lifetimes worth of it. I don't mean that in a cynical way; just matter of fact. I'm very open to sharing my story because I believe it helps not only me, but other people to become more aware of mental illness and abuse.  I've actually considered writing a book. So, I'm not really sure where to start. There's a lot to my story so...

I've only been living with the diagnoses of PTSD for about 6 months. I'm quite sure it's actually CPTSD considering my history, but I'm only just learning this. Before this, I was living with a diagnosis of Bi-Polar Disorder. I was 13 years old when I was given that title. I'm always greeted with disbelief and awe when I reveal that. For those of you that don't know, a Bi-Polar diagnoses at that age is pretty much unheard of and slightly frowned upon. Mostly because when a child goes through puberty around that age, there are hormonal  changes that can cause mood swings and it's hard to differentiate between mood swings and true Bi-Polar episodes. Plus, the medicines that are used to treat Bi-Polar can be very strong, and using them on a child whose brain is still developing can be questionable.

The thing is, I believe I was wrongly given that diagnoses because they never thought to attribute my behavior to PTSD. I was a very troubled child, full of rage and sadness, prone to angry outbursts and deep bouts of depression. I know now it was because I didn't know how to cope with the trauma I had experienced as a little girl. I was sexually abused for a period of time by my two adolescent stepbrothers when I was about 5. Neither knew the other was involved. I remember asking my mother if it was okay that it was happening, because I was so little that I didn't understand. She immediately took action after that, and there was an investigation by Social Services.

They came to the conclusion that I was a little girl that had too much imagination, and I must have made the whole thing up. My mother is a Pediatric Nurse Practitioner and has a lot of faith in the system, so she took their word for it and that was that. My stepbrothers were sent to live with their mother and nothing ever came of it.

Except here I am, my whole life up to this point steered by that. Trauma begets trauma.

As a child, I was the kid that everyone always picked on. I was prone to uncontrollable emotional outbursts that sometimes got violent....so, I didn't have many friends. As I got older, it only got worse. I was prescribed a handful of medications that I shouldn't have even been taking. At one point, I was in such a pill induced zombie-like state, that I became anorexic because I had no appetite. I was harassed by most everyone and in 7th grade I had only one friend. Both my parents were always either sleeping or working because they worked opposing schedules. I hardly ever saw them, and when I did, all we did was fight. We moved around quite a bit too, which hardly helped. I was lonely, angry, depressed and extremely rebellious. I was very promiscuous and as a result I put myself into situations with boys that were very dangerous.

At 17, I was in an almost fatal car crash with three other people. I miraculously managed to walk away with severe head trauma, 18 stitches in my knee, and a broken back. One of the girls in the crash had so much brain damage that she had to relearn how to walk, and had to have upwards of 12 brain surgeries.

A few months later, I thought I had found my first real love. After the first 6 months, we moved in together. He ended up being abusive in every way possible. Physically, sexually, emotionally, mentally. He would physically abuse me with my "friends" in the other room, and they would do nothing. I didn't leave. He fell in love with another woman, got her pregnant and insisted that he have both relationships. She knew about the abuse, and didn't care. Then he tried to get involved with a third woman. I still didn't leave. He nearly choked me to death with his brother standing outside the front door. That was the third time he'd almost killed me, and I was still reluctant to leave...but I did. I called the police and he was arrested. Two days later, he was released because he was a "first time offender". The abuse still didn't end. His mother would pay the local kids with cigarettes to watch my apartment and report back to her. She called the police on me three times, and I ended up getting two minor consumption charges because the only way I knew how to cope was to drink.

Fast forward to age 19. I'm dating a 26 year old guy with a drinking problem, and we're living in a Winnebago Camper with three dogs and a cat. He's extremely jealous, to the point it's almost abusive. I visit some girl friends on Christmas Eve without him and I end up drinking too much liquor. An ex-boyfriend of one of my friends is there and he takes the opportunity to rape me while I'm so intoxicated I can't fight back. I'm afraid to tell my boyfriend, but I do anyway and as I'm sobbing my eyes out he precedes to accuse me of cheating on him. I stay with him for 6 more months.

I fell in love with a man that was in the army. He proposed to me. I said yes. I sold ALL of my belongings and bought a one way ticket to Utah. He met me there and we drove to Kansas to live with his family. Not even a month later, he decides that I'm not the one and breaks it off. I had to ride in the car with him for 12 hours back to Minnesota. I called my parents because I had no money, and no where to go. They told me verbatim: "The last time you left was the last time you left.". He then left me in Minnesota in the dead of winter, homeless.

Now, I know this is long. It's not easy to explain it without the length because my whole past is basically one giant tragedy. And you know what sucks? That's not even the whole story. Not by a long shot.

I'm a stay at home mom now. I have a four year old son who looks up to me, and a boyfriend that loves me deeply but has no respect for my mental illness because no matter how many times I've explained it to him, he still doesn't get it....and we fight constantly. I don't know about you but I am very conscious of my limits and there's a point I get to when I'm angry that I don't easily come back from. I try to tell him that I need to be left alone, that I need space, otherwise I'm going to get to that point, but to no avail. I'm currently seeing a trauma therapy specialist and I'm going to start EMDR soon. I have so much more to share but I feel like this post has gone on far enough and I want to thank you for reading it. I hope I can get some insight from being a part of this forum.