I need to vent all that has happened.
Im going to give the quickest summary of my life i can. I am 18. In late high school i suffered from a miserable sleeping problem. My father being a psychiatrist decided to try and solve my problem with medicines. I was reluctant, as i knew there were minor risks involved (dependency, side effects, etc). I started with one but quickly had to supplement them with more and more. I ended up being severely addicted to most of my medications. I went through a withdrawal that was tormenting at age 17.
When i finally made it through high school and got into college. i thought things were going to be ok. I still had my sleeping problem, but i learned to manage it as best as i could. with no medicines. My insomnia would come and go over different periods of time. During my first few weeks of college i was euphoric. I loved it dearly and was proud to earn good grades and make wonderful friends. Then my sleep dissapeared for a good 3 or 4 days.
I decided to tell my father and he sent me medicines to take. I was extremely inhibited to take them. i didnt want to but the exhaustion was unbearable. Unfortunately, i was terribly allergic to this particular strain of medicine. It caused me to sleep walk and do things extremely out of my character.
I remember waking up in places that i didnt originally sleep in, (a very frightening experience). I never thought it was because of the medicine. Then on one night things got out of hand with my medicine. While sleep walking, i unconsciously took an extremely large amount of my medicine. I took nearly 30 pills for a 1 pill a night prescription. I ended up in the hospital.
While in the emergency room, the side effects of the Overdose were still in effect. As i slept the first night after being stabalized. i slept walked and cut my own arms with a ball point pen.
I had also ripped my IV out of my arm.
When i awoke, i was in the bathroom, bloody and in pain, completely unaware of how i got there. The hospital staff didnt take it as an unintentional accident. They thought it was willful self mutilation. I wound up in a psych ward, due to the hospitals negligence. After all, i was mentally normal, definately not crazy or disturbed to a point of needing to be isolated.
I thought the psych ward would be simple, as i was wholly normal.
Unfortunately two of the guards in the psych ward saw the cuts on my arm were self inflicted. As twisted as it is, they pulled me into a room at night and placed more cuts on my body, making it appear as though i was doing it to myself.
Why? you might ask.
I have no idea, they enjoyed doing it. They were sadists. As i tried to tell on them to the head psychiatrist of the psych ward, i realized that i just sounded crazy. The head psychiatrist said to me, “you sound like everyone else in here, youll be here for a long time.”
I thought i was ******, but i managed to get out.(Longer story)
As i returned to college, scarred physically but not mentally, i was happy. Honestly i took no traumatic experience from all that happened. I took it in stride, with an even more contented view on life. College was nice, but then something bad happened.
My father pulled me out of college, he deemed it unsafe for me to be there. At home, life was awful. I was worthless, and unproductive. I applied to get back into college. I was accepted to many schools, but my father called each one to ensure my acceptances were revoked. It was here where i began to realize he was not on my side any longer. Eventually he made it clear that he would be of no help. So then i began to muscle up the money for school myself, working 3 jobs, and selling weed. (something i am not at all proud of)
I did make the money to go to school, and after buying myself a car and paying tuition near my house, my father kicked me out.
That brings me here.
I live out of my car, work a legal job, and go to school.
All my friends are aware of my situation.
What they arent aware of, in fact, what they have a misconception of is my happiness.
They all think i am strong and tough, and that i am having no problems.
The truth is, i have always been that kind of guy, the one that is happy no matter what happens.
Unfortunately, for the first time in my life, i am miserable.
I have noone to talk to.
I am lonely, exhausted, addicted to cigarettes, and unhappy.
I cry every night and even sometimes while driving.
(its just tearing, but still, i never cry)
I cant talk to anyone about it because they all have their own problems and also are sick of hearing of my misfortune.
Some of my friends are starting to leave my side because they perceive my being busy as neglect of our relationships.
It seems as though i cant catch a break.
I needed to vent out of my system in an attempt to feel better.
If just one person can see my life from my perspective this piece of writing will be a success.
If anyone wants to write me with a suggestion or anything, please do.
(email removed)
This open post was written 6 months, 3 weeks ago | V/U/S: 152, 15, 7 | Edit Post | Leave a reply | Report Post
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