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but i am quite the opposite, in that i have no dreams whatsoever and havent done for a long time. 

For most of my life I've experienced vivid dreams and usually remembered them, they have been one of the more positive aspects of my life. But during the 13+ years I was taking SSRI type antidepressants, I hardly dreamed at all, my dream life basically stopped.

But when I came off my medication, the dreams came back with a vengeance, that was actually one of the first 'symptoms of antidepressant withdrawal' that hit me. I was having vivid, epic dreams that lasted all night. My sleep was badly disrupted, it was like my brain was trying to catch up with all the missed dreaming.

I refused to sleep for about a week straight, I kept myself awake doing all sort of things to keep me awake. But for me, I started halluscinating. Proper down-right scary *. And very far out there stuff. I had hallucinated before, but after that period it didn't go away. I'm not schitzophrenic, I've been tested.

Many years ago, I didn't sleep for about a week and started hallucinating/experiencing psychosis. Unfortunately I was given a diagnosis of schizophrenia, but there was no test, and I was wondering how you were tested? If I had been tested properly, I wouldn't have been mis-diagnosed and forced to endure the medical trauma which followed.

I also don't have schizophrenia, but that didn't stop them saying I did, putting me on heavy medication, which caused akathisia which almost led me to suicide. As soon as I got some sleep, the psychosis went away, when I stopped taking the medication, I started feeling a whole lot better.  But the effects of the mis-diagnosis and trauma from the whole frightening experience of psychiatric hospitalization have lasted a long time.

But my question is... how were you tested for schizophrenia?

I've been having a lot of nightmares lately, almost every night, which is understandable, because I'm working on healing and having a lot of old memories re-surface. But something is happening which I don't understand and I'm wondering if anyone else has experienced this or have any ideas about what might be going on.

I've been having nightmares about things I've never actually experienced, like natural disasters, and being in other frightening situations and environments I've never actually known. This morning I dreamed I was running from a tsunami. The thing which distinguishes these nightmares from 'normal' ones is that I often wake up in  panic, then eventually calm down, go back to sleep and go right back into the same nightmare, this is something new for me. Previously, when I would wake from nightmares I could go back to sleep and not have to re-experience them. I've had recurring dreams/nightmares through my life though, but not on the same night.

This morning I was running for my life from a tsunami over and over again, each time the outcome was a little different. The last time, I decided not to run, because I was tired, and so I woke up at the moment of getting engulfed by it.

Its almost like I'm dreaming about other peoples traumatic memories. I've never been in a natural disaster, been close to one or feel like I've been traumatized by one on TV or anything like that. These nightmares always happen during the later part of the night, like around 4 - 5am, well the ones I remember anyway.

If I believed in past lives, I might put it down to that, but I don't, well not in the typical way.

Anyone have any ideas what might be going on, or have experienced something similar?

....One thing I've noticed is that when I've made a bit of progress, such as writing about my experiences or challenging a long-held belief, my dreams can change character..... I tend to see this as my brain processing changes and part of the healing, ...

Since I've been delving into past memories, and healing my IC, my dreams have become quite disturbing, and I was wondering what was going on. I'm often reluctant to go to sleep because of nightmares. I've been waking up a lot through the night too. So this helps, I will try and think of it as my brain working on healing while I sleep.

[TW: a scary nightmare.]

Thanks Snowdrop, that makes sense to me 

edit: and thanks Tee, I posted this before seeing your reply 

~~~~~~

TW: a scary nightmare.

I already made an entry today, but  just remembered a dream I had last night, more a like a nightmare really. Weird dreams are not unusual for me but last night was extra weird. I woke up from it in  a state of fear just after 4am, scared to go back to sleep. I put my soothing adult bed time stories back on, and drifted back to sleep, right back into the same dream, that's never happened before.

I was on a course or workshop, in a place that was dark, with lots of very strange looking things scattered around everywhere. There was a long table which all of the participants were suppose to sit around. I had come with a friend, not someone I actually know in real life, but in the dream, this person was supposed to be my friend. But as soon as we got to the place, she deserted me and went and sat at one end of the table without me, I tried to join her, but was quickly pushed out of the way as all the seats that end of the table were taken by other females. So I walked to the other end, where all the males were. They weren't exactly human looking males, and looked like they were from various alien species. All the seats that end of the table were taken too, I tried to squeeze in somewhere, but didn't fit, so I stood awkwardly behind someone, waiting for someone in authority to arrive, to find me a seat, but they never did.

There were lots of weird looking things on the table, I didn't recognize what anything was. It seemed like we were supposed to figure out what to do with this stuff, and everyone else got started, experimenting with the objects, chatting, exchanging ideas, offering suggestions, basically helping each other, but I was standing behind everyone and couldn't even reach the table, so I didn't have a chance. I wanted to take part, these things looked interesting, but I couldn't. No one arrived to guide us or tell us what to do, but everyone else didn't seem to care, and were having a great time, making progress, but I couldn't even get started, I felt like I was being left behind.

Then we were moving along a corridor, going to another part of the course. We were moving as a group, and then it opened up into a large area. The scenery was like from another planet. Sizes of everything were different from everything I'd ever seen. There were huge vehicles 4 or 5 stories high, tall and narrow, moving around, in between blocks of buildings which were towering up into the sky. These trucks would disappear into tiny, invisible openings in the buildings, then come back out again. There were no windows in anything, and everything had been painted the same shade of beige, even the ground. The previous colors of everything was slightly visible underneath the beige paint, it was like they had been given a very rough coat of this new color, so that everything looked the same. The course participants were wandering around, just looking at what was going on. Then we were somewhere else, walking through very dark alleyways, there was danger all around. Flashing lights, and the darkness was catching up, we had to keep going, keep moving with the flashing light or whatever was in the darkness would engulf us and we would be gone. The pathway was narrow and twisting and things would jump out from hidden alcoves. I was terrified and exhausted and confused and couldn't keep going, I was about to be swallowed up by the darkness when I woke up suddenly with adrenaline racing through me.

I calmed down eventually and tried going back to sleep, and went right back into the same scenario. The beige area was now being repainted with lots of different colors, most of it was completed and it looked much nicer and more of a friendly kind of place. It was getting late (in the dream) and we were supposed to be getting ready for dinner and bed. We had sort of bare racks, made of wood to sleep on, like rows and rows of bunk beds, with no mattresses. Everyone else had eaten, but I had been gone. Someone told me where to get some food, but it was confusing, I was walking around and around, trying to follow directions, but I got lost and ended up back at my bunk, still hungry. Then I desperately needed to use the bathroom, and started searching for that, but never found it, and tried going in my bunk, because it looked like someone else was doing that too. But it turned out they were doing something else, so I felt ashamed of making that mistake, but kept going anyway because I needed to. I woke up feeling quite disturbed, it had been a vivid dream and it took a few hours to recover. 

Hello Jazzy 

I'm only part way through your journal so far, but wanted to comment on a few things I particularly relate to.

So, I read a couple of the other shorter journals here for the first time ever, and now I feel like I'm doing this all wrong... I'm not being emotional or connected enough, on and on, but I think it is just part of the shame that I feel in pretty much everything I do.

I have the same problem when comparing anything I do, with how others may do it. If I'm doing something different in any way, its wrong. For me, this goes right back to my childhood, when my controlling parents wanted everything done exactly as they would do it. The way you write is a perfect expression of your unique self, and I'm relating to much of what you write. So please keep going.

...On the other hand though, eating and sleeping are just basic requirements of life, and "doing them right" is something I imagine never even crosses a normal person's mind... so there's still a long way to go.

There was a time in my life when these basics rarely crossed my mind, but I was living unconsciously and dysfunctionally, they were part of my childhood programming. Since starting this healing journey, everything has been broken down, including sleeping and eating, along with everything most normal people don't think about. I think, being able to do the basics of life, consciously, mindfully is a step beyond doing them as part of an unconscious program, especially if other parts of that program contain harmful patterns. Taking care of ourselves with these healthy basics is an important foundation for the rest of our lives. I congratulate myself each day when I have taken care of myself in these simple ways.

So I guess this is where exposure therapy comes in to the picture. My psychiatrist seems to think that the answer is that simple. Afraid of going outside? Just go outside more.

Hmm! From my personal experience and understanding, psychiatrists are not very good at understanding people, or the conditions they diagnose and their treatments are generally drug based, although it wasn't always like this. I believe exposure therapy works best for simple phobias, certainly not CPTSD. It hasn't helped me at all, and in fact has made me worse at times, causing more stress and trauma at the re-exposure to multiple triggers.

Anyway, the whole point to this is that it isn't really about me going outside. Its about encountering another person. Sure, I get lonely and need companionship like anyone else, sometimes desperately so... but it turns out that my most common trigger is a person. Nothing specific at all, being human is enough. What brought this whole rant up is that I caught myself hiding today, because my neighbour walked past the window when I was in view of it. So, clearly I don't feel very safe, even in the house.

Boy, do I relate to this, and I have a similar issue with my neighbor, who is actually a very nice man who cuts my grass for me. I have new neighbors across the street now, a new house was built and its made life more complicated. I have to time going out, with when they are not outside, so I don't have to encounter them. It just feels so uncomfortable encountering other people, when there is even the slightest expectation of interaction. I don't understand this, but please know, you are not alone.

I'm going to continue reading your journal now, thank you for sharing your journey. 

  Hello holidayay

Gosh, it seems like a lot of the antidote for c-ptsd seems to be around receiving validation. Its like we are validation-deficient.

I think you might be right, we got so little of it from our parents and family, I think perhaps we didn't develop a sense of our own goodness or an ability to know how to discern  what is appropriate.

Thank you for sharing your journey and congratulations on your graduation and first successful shift.

You are such a good writer.

and 

I agree! I like how you write, and your insights are clarifying.

Thank you holidayay and Three Roses, 

These somewhat triggering compliments are more grist for the mill for me. Some compliments are fine, but others seem to go straight to my dysfunctional core, like this one. I'm not sure why, but I will share a related experience from my childhood, maybe there's a connection.

In grade school, English was my favorite subject. I would often stay up late at night, writing into the early hours for my assignments. I would be so inspired and passionate about writing, that I didn't get tired, it was like something else took over me and I would keep going, until I was finished, often being shocked to see it was starting to get light outside. Then I would start to feel weird, like as if it wasn't even me who had been writing.

One particular assignment was going to be rated from 1 - 28, or however many there were in the class. It sounds cruel now, but that's what was going to happen. Our teacher was going to read them out in order, from worst to best. I'd been working on my essay until the early hours, and had been in my trance like state while writing. When finished, I though it was ok, but couldn't really judge, it didn't feel like it had been me writing, I guess I was in a bit of a dissociated state.  A few days later the readings began and it got to the top 3, and mine still hadn't been read out. I was starting to panic, these last few essays were really great, it didn't make sense, I was starting to think mine had been lost. My teacher announced number 2 and it wasn't me. I felt surges of panic, my mind went blank and my brain shut down. I wasn't even there while he read number 2 and when my essay was announced as being the best in class, it didn't make sense, I completely shut down and didn't hear another word. My essay had placed first, it made no sense at all and I felt so embarrassed and ashamed to have all that attention directed at me.

When that assignment was sent home, with my top mark and comments. I noticed my teacher had remarked that I was extremely sensitive, I think this was supposed to be a good thing, but in my family that was bad and I could feel my parents disapproval at that comment. From then on, I felt ashamed in my English class, and had weird feelings about my teacher. I knew I wrote well, or that some, dissociated part of me did, but I was ashamed of it and tried to tone down my writing a lot of the time, I didn't want to appear better than anyone else, didn't want to stand out, didn't want attention.

When I was young, I used to write poetry, it was a safe way to express my feelings. I decided to enter a poetry competition, not expecting anything, but I got third place. Our family was invited to the presentation award ceremony. I didn't really want to go, but had to. I was in a state of panic the whole night and wanted the floor to open up and swallow me the moment I had to walk up and collect my prize. If I had been asked to speak, I would have died. I'm so glad I didn't get first place because that woman had to read out her poem. That was another one of those times when I had disappeared and 'something else' had written through me. I guess I felt like a kind of fraud.

Sometimes I would give my poems to my parents to read. M would usually hand them back, saying she didn't understand what I was talking about. If D would read them, he wouldn't say anything to me, not a word. But sometimes later, M would tell me that my poem had made him cry, like as if it was a bad thing, and I usually felt bad about it. So I started keeping my writing to myself.

I wrote a poem about my loneliness when I was about 13. It was a cry for help, I suppose. I felt so desperately alone, misunderstood and abandoned by the whole world. I didn't think much about the poem after I had written it, not expecting anyone would care, I was used to writing my feelings out onto paper. I think it was how I survived and stayed sane, mostly just for me. But one of my parents got hold of that poem, I can't actually remember the details, but somehow it got published in a local newspaper. I remember reading it years later and thinking how sad it was, a young girl so lonely, expressing her feelings, to the whole world, but no one caring, not one person attempted to help me, neither of my parents showed any interest or compassion, their only concern was that I had got something published in a newspaper, so they could brag to friends and family about it. I remember the last line of that poem "Now weak from fighting loneliness, I soothe my scars alone'.  It's beyond my understanding how any parent could read something like that, written by a 13 year old, and not do something to try to help.... three years later, I was thrown out of home, but that's another story.

They still think I'm like them, wanting external approval, admiration, and respect for socially approved accomplishments. They like to look good, on the outside and they projected this onto me, completely blind to my inner feelings which were at the core of that poem. It was another example of being invisible, being used and invalidated, adding to my growing feelings of shame. My feelings of loneliness were nothing but a means to getting some recognition by being published.

Just recently, both my parents got a bee in their bonnets about another of my poems, one written for M years ago, on mothers day. He had it read out at his seniors club, taking credit that 'his daughter' had written it. M had it published in their local senior newspaper, so as not to be out done by him, but she framed it as if she was doing me a favor, helping to get my work 'out there'.

The ironic thing is, that poem wasn't anything like my own mother, but an idealized version of what I didn't have. I didn't see it at the time and remember feeling a kind of dissonance between what mothers were supposed to be and what my experience actually was. Of course, I blamed myself, thinking there was something wrong with my own perceptions.

As a child, one of my goals was to one day write a book, but I never did, feeling like I never had anything worthwhile to say, that no one would be interested in anything I had to write. These days, its fairly easy to write a book, and get it published. My daughter has just self published the first of a series of novels she has written. She's a great writer too, but unlike me, she had one good enough parent who saw her, encouraged her, and guided her towards fulfilling her own potential as an individual. I'm proud of her, but it's a bitter sweet kind of feeling, she was able to accomplish one of my life goals, at such a young age too, because I was able to give her something I never got.

I'm just starting to realize that my voice has value, that my words might have meaning for others, and right now I'm struggling to overcome the feelings of shame and expectation I get, whenever my writing attracts any attention. The shame comes from the expression of anything emotional and the expectation comes from my parents wanting me to 'succeed', to make them look good.

I don't want to look good, not for me or anyone else. I just want to be me, with all my human emotions, and have that be acceptable. I want to be included and feel like I belong, that I have value, just for being alive. I want to matter, not for what I can do for someone else, but just because I was born, a unique expression of life. I think I have a right to live my life in a way that's right for me, as long as I don't hurt anyone else.

I'm happy my writing has meaning for some of you, this is difficult for me, and may take some getting used to.   

  Thanks everyone for your understanding and thoughtful responses. There's so many great ideas here, practical ones and suggestions related to further insight and healing. This forum is like the warm, supportive family I never had 

Reading these lists is triggering me because I'm realizing just how many of these I share, I could say almost anything could trigger me these days, but I'm better than I was a few years ago. At my worst I was triggered by seeing a spoon in the sink, a spot of dirt on a cupboard, seeing any kind of insect, hearing any human voice, any thought at all about the future. During that time I think I was in a permanent low level of EF and any sensory change would cause a spike.

I haven't always been as bad as I am today, since my breakdown from my last traumatic event, but triggers which I've had since childhood have been:
Injustice
Anger
Seeing anyone out of control, especially anyone being drunk
Babies
Loud voices
Authority
Certain people from my FOO

Thank you Tee for replying, it's good to know I'm not alone in feeling this way.

Sounds like a rock and a hard place situation. Do you know why you feel the need to be part of this group, when it sounds like you don't really want to be? ...

Yes, this is why I'm finding it so confusing. I think it may be triggering emotions from earlier times, when I was bullied and ostracized, but felt like I needed to be part of a group for survival. Firstly from my FOO, and then at school.

I really don't want to be part of a group, or even try to make friends right now, I'm just not ready. I've only just started getting back out into the world after 6+ years of hardly being able to leave my bedroom. But I have a harsh inner critic which is a combination of both my parents yelling opposing things at me a lot of the time, some of which is that I 'should' talk to people and try to make friends.

But like so many here, I've had bad experiences in relationships over the years, and now find it difficult to trust anyone. Getting a puppy felt like a safe first step in trying to reconnect and form a healthy kind of bond again.

My daughter bought her own home and moved out about 18 months ago, so I was living alone for the first time in 30 years. It took a couple of months to adjust and feel ok about it, I actually started to enjoy my space, but I felt lonely at times.

I've had so much trauma, loss and difficult experiences in my life, its hard to know what is contributing to what, and if my behavior is healthy or unhealthy.

I imagine hearing advice about therapy, doctors, medication, just getting out there, pushing myself etc. blah blah. Advice from people who don't understand. I've tried it all and mostly have ended up worse off than when I started, being let down and harmed more by people I have turned to for help.

I'm actually surprised I'm still alive, still trying, but I don't have much energy and surviving through each day, doing the basics takes all the energy I have.

The only person I completely trust now is myself, and when my self trust starts to crumble, it gets very frightening.

I was just starting to feel safe again, but the dog park no longer feels like it's a safe place to be and I don't know whether its good to avoid it or not. I'm still very vulnerable to even slight increases in stress and get set back very easily. I hate this non-linear recovery. Those steps backwards feel like going right back to the beginning and all the hard work was for nothing.

My brain stops working properly, I forget everything I've learned, forget all my coping strategies, can't think rationally and feel like a helpless, abandoned infant. I don't even recognized that I'm having an EF, until hours, sometimes days later. I'm wondering if I'm ever going to be able to recover from childhood wounds and learn how to live well.

The shame of it all makes me want to isolate and posting here isn't easy, my impulse is to ... 

I want to be able to go to the dog park, sit on one of the benches by myself, relax and enjoy watching my dog play with the other dogs, but I can't.

Mostly everyone else huddles around in groups, talking to each other, often completely ignoring their dogs. It seems like that's normal human behavior, and I'm not normal. I don't want to appear abnormal, or unsociable, so I force myself to do what I don't want to do, so that I can appear more normal, so that I can escape from feeling uncomfortable, from feeling like I don't fit in, from feeling like I've been excluded from the group. But I don't want to be part of those cliquey little groups, so I'm confused.

I don't care where snooty woman with too much make-up went on her vacation. I don't want to hear about how someone got drunk on the weekend, not interested in gossipy small talk, or bitchy stories, its like being back at high school.  I don't want to feel obliged to laugh at jokes or stories which aren't funny to me.  I don't want to listen to long winded, boring monologues from people who seem obsessed with the sound of their own voices.  I just want to relax and watch my dog playing, but everyone else seems to have this other agenda, which I don't understand.

I'm not unfriendly, I will acknowledge people and say hello, if it seems appropriate. I don't mind exchanging a few comments with someone, and will ask a relevant question or two if something interests me, but being part of a small group of people who are engaged in casual conversation causes me incredible anxiety, it's like my brain shuts down. But being on the outside of those groups feels worse,  panic starts to arise. I remember being exactly like this all through high school. I would get bullied sometimes being part of a group, some of my 'friends' were mean,  but I was terrified of not being part of a group.

Thinking about it now, it was the same in my family. I guess I was the scapegoat and was often bullied and humiliated, and sent to my room alone if I tried to stand up for myself... banished from the family, ignored and shamed.

I can't believe I'm still having this problem as an adult. I've started avoiding taking my dog to the dog park, because of my problem, and now I'm feeling guilty about that because unlike me, he's very sociable and loves going there.

Any kind words of wisdom, ideas or suggestions would be much appreciated.

Thank you, I had some trouble finding this

Then, click the speech balloon (or speech bubble) icon

But got it eventually.

The cursor will be blinking in between the two inner parentheses

Yes it was 

This method will not quote the author but you can put the authors name in there somewhere if you want

Thank you

Three Roses

and

SharpAndBlunt

Yay, I did it!

Recently, my dog's favorite chew toy went missing, nowhere near as serious as losing keys, but it caused me considerable anxiety and when I couldn't easily find it, I went into a sort of low grade panic, searching everywhere obsessively, looking in ridiculous places, for hours, then I did the same thing the next day. I was triggered by that lost toy for the best part of a week.

I think anxiety over losing things is normal, especially if what we lose is something we need to use in the course of conducting our lives, keeping ourselves safe and functioning.  I also have flashes of panic if I can't quickly find my keys in my purse. Thinking about losing them for real is seriously frightening, especially if I was far from home. I'm glad you found yours.

Thank you sanmagic and Three Roses, it helps to have some validation and encouragement.

~~~~~~~~

Update on the missing order.

It had been over 24 hours since I provided the  order number, which had been requested, so when I opened the messages window, I expected to see some kind of response, but there was nothing. So once again, being ignored and disregarded triggered old emotions from my past, not that some frustration wasn't warranted by this current situation. I'm a paying customer, the company has my money and I don't have the product I paid for, I deserve a response.
So, I started typing again, asking for a response, feeling a bit silly, if they were ignoring me, then this was also likely to be ignored. But I posted it anyway and then received an automated reply, apologizing for the lack of response, saying it was because they were dealing with an unusual number of messages. Well, this was different from my childhood experiences. They were admitting mistakes, apologizing, being accountable, even if it was an automated response, it was better than what I used to get from my parents.

I calmed down slightly, but was still frustrated, I wanted an answer and I wanted it now, not later, not tomorrow, not when they got around to it. So, I phoned and didn't have to wait long to be given an explanation, by a real human, an apology, an admitted mistake and told when I can expect my order to arrive.... Another week, but at least I was treated with respect and consideration. This isn't my childhood anymore, I'm an adult, I have more power than I did back then. Most people I deal with these days are not like my parents, they treat me with basic human respect, mistakes are usually admitted, there are apologies and attempts to make amends.

I still left them an unfavorable google review and my comments were honest. They messed up my order, didn't notice it until I contacted them, and their online contact system is terrible. I'm still annoyed that I must wait another week, but I'm no longer being triggered by stuff from my childhood, this is different, this is now. This experience has been one more tiny step towards healing. I checked their google reviews and learned this is a common problem with this particular company, they take orders, but for various reasons don't ship right away and don't contact customers. I had checked product reviews before ordering, but not google company reviews.... oh well, that was a lesson learned.

Talking about mistakes, apologies and making amends, I don't remember my parents ever admitting mistakes or apologizing for anything. Thinking about it now, it seems so strange. Mistakes and getting things wrong are such a normal part of life, it's how we learn, grow and improve, by trying, getting it wrong and then learning from the mistake and trying again, doing something different. I learned two very dysfunctional lessons from this issue, first that my parents were never wrong and so everything that went wrong or caused a conflict between us was always my fault, so I learned to automatically take the blame for everything which went wrong in my life. Secondly, I didn't have a healthy role model for trying, failing and trying again. Mistakes were something to be ashamed of, so I learned not to try anything if I thought there was a chance of failure.

How could two people who suck so badly get together and combine their suckyness into one big sucky system, pass it onto me and expect me to succeed in life? But that's what happened. I don't exactly know what it means to succeed at life, I'm still alive, still trying, still learning and much more in control of myself than I've ever been, maybe I'm succeeding at life in spite of the bad start.

I wish I could go back in time, knowing what I do now. I would have made different choices, treated myself with respect, expected so much more than I did, but mostly, I would have had confidence and courage and would have taken healthy risks, stepped out of my comfort zone and headed towards achieving my highest potential in life. But doesn't everyone wish that? Maybe not everyone, but probably everyone reading this forum.

For years, I've believed I was a failure, that I just wasn't as good as most other people, that I was defective, broken, weak, useless and that this was somehow my fault for not trying hard enough, because I was lazy, unmotivated, or intrinsically bad. It's difficult to pin down exactly what was wrong with me and why it was my fault, why I was to blame. If I could have just figured it out, I probably could have done something about it. I guess that's why I fell for the 'faulty brain chemistry' lie, the theory used by advertising companies in promoting the sale of medications. It was a perfect collection of answers all rolled up into one perfect solution. My brain was broken, so it wasn't my fault and here is the solution, take this pill and your brain will be fixed and you will be normal, just as good as everyone else and your life will work and you will be happy. Only problem was, it wasn't true, but I so wanted it to be, so I clung to that delusion for a long time, taking my pills, believing I was ok, in spite of feeling worse a lot of the time, until it was too late, my brain had adapted to having them on board and I couldn't stop taking them without being thrown right into the depths of * as soon as they were out of my system. I didn't know about tapering or withdrawal or that they were never designed for long term use and that many people had a hard time when they tried to stop taking them, even if they hadn't helped all that much.

Getting off antidepressants nearly killed me, and that's not just a metaphor. I started taking them for what I would now call mild to moderate anxiety, but withdrawal from antidepressants took me to the depths of * and held me there for a long time. My nervous system went into chaos, hardly anything in my body functioned normally, I lost my ability to sleep, to think, to talk, to go outside and I experienced terror like I've never known before, terror that never abated. My body was stuck in fight/flight from the moment I was slammed awake during the early hours until it started getting dark at night, and this went on for years. I didn't leave my bedroom, had my windows blacked out because I couldn't handle any light. The slightest sound felt like a physical blow to my body. It felt like there was an electric current running through my body, or like I was being cooked in a microwave on low power. When I did go out to do some shopping, once a week, everything looked distorted, colors were wrong, it was like everything was in slow motion and my brain wasn't working properly, I couldn't make sense of anything, couldn't make decisions, couldn't remember anything and the constant terror made it very difficult to stay calm and do what I needed to do. Having a shower was a nightmare, it felt like being the woman in the psycho movie, like as if I was going to be killed at any moment, so I would leave it as long as possible, the fear was so intense, I sometimes went several weeks without showering, waiting until my skin got so sore and itchy I couldn't stand it any longer. I used to be a daily showering kind of person, sometimes multiple times a day when it was hot, it's unbelievable what intense fear can do to a person.

It took about 3 years of being drug free before I started recovering, I finally started noticing some improvements in my symptoms. Thankfully I had found some information and support online, so I knew I was going to recover, eventually, but it took a long time and the suffering was so bad, for so long I became suicidal for the first time in my life, and trying to go back on the pills just made me worse. I lost faith in doctors and medicine, they couldn't help. If it wasn't for the help I found online, I don't think I would be here today.

I wasn't planning on writing about medication and my horrendous experience with it, because apparently, it helps some people, but not everyone. For a while I thought it was helping me too, but in the end, it caused way more harm and nearly ended my life.... And I'm not the only one. During my bed bound years, I worked as a moderator on a forum like this, helping people safely taper off psychiatric medications, unlike the way I did it...too fast. I saw so much suffering and many suicides, not from the illnesses that the medications had been prescribed for, but the horrors associated with trying to come off the medications once the brain and nervous system had adapted to them.

I've survived a lot of adversity in my life, emotional abuse and neglect from people who were supposed to care for me, bullying, abandonment, sexual abuse, rapes, violent crime, being relocated away from everything I knew, ongoing abuse from every relationship I chose to stay in. Medical abuse, abusive marriage, horrendous divorce, no social support, no real friendships, loss after loss after loss and then the final straw was being driven to the brink of suicide by years of indescribable suffering after coming off medication which I never should have been taking in the first place.

I'm still not completely recovered, but much better than I was and not sure what causes what these days. I'm actively working on recovering from my deepest childhood wounds now, like I should have been doing before I started taking medication.  My nervous system is still vulnerable from the chaos of coming off medication. I'm almost back to pre-medication level of stability, but not quite and I still have to build up my strength and stamina after 3 years of being bed bound and another 3 years of limited functioning. Its been a bit like waking up from a coma and venturing back out into the world, everything is different, and I must catch up, but its quite overwhelming and I don't always like what I see now.

I'm more sensitive than I ever was, but now I'm able to honor that about myself. I don't see myself as intrinsically broken any more, I was injured by other people, people who didn't know any better. It wasn't my fault, but it wasn't theirs either. Bad stuff happens to good people, it's not personal, the universe is impartial, it doesn't care what happens, or who it happens to, life is a gift, but it doesn't come with instructions or a guarantee. If we are lucky, we are born into favorable circumstances, surrounded by people who are able to love us, help us and teach us a bit about how to live well, the rest of us have to figure it out the best we can, survive long enough to find that help somewhere else. I'm grateful I was born at a time when we have the internet, finding good help and reliable information locally, where I live is near impossible.