As I mentioned in a previous post I have been isolating, blocking myself off from the rest of the world. I have made a little progress- yesterday I saw my therapist, Thursday I went to see my psychiatrist and Wednesday I ran some errands. But I am still deeply scared of the world outside my door. Every time I try to convince myself to walk outside, I have an internal battle. My legs try to walk, but my mind fights back. So instead of walking forward I tend fall back into my chair, defeated, paranoid and anxious. The frustrating part is that I want to leave my apartment. I want to be around other people, but my mind won’t let me. I’m a prisoner to my fears and paranoia.
As a result of my isolation, I’ve spent a lot of time analyzing my past- trying to figure out how I ended up becoming a partial shut-in. I wasn’t like this in high school (ok, I wasn’t the most popular kid in school, but I had a few friends and I made an effort to go outside) or the first year of college, in fact I was both gregarious and confident. Then I realized something, in my sophomore year of college I started seeing my old therapist again. And after a few meetings, Dr. E diagnosed me with OCD and Agoraphobia. Using this period as a reference point, I tried forcing myself to remember the memories leading up to my diagnosis.
Eventually the memories started coming back.
They were dark, horrible and tragic scenes of a young me trying to fit in with the “popular” kids. At that time, I was desperate to fit in (yes, I know this is a typical scene from most high school and college movies, but this happened to me and the results scarred me for life) so I went to parties, I drank heavily with the football team and I made a fool of myself. At the time I didn’t realize they were taking advantage of me, pushing me around and treating me like shit. I didn’t care, because I felt like I was being included. Every day my self-esteem was taking a huge hit, shattering what little confidence I had in myself. This went on for a few months.
Then one night in mid-November, I attended a party that shifted the direction of my life. There was a party at the baseball house. A few of the football players invited me. (trigger warning, the following talks about alcohol use) Before we left, we each took a shot of Jack Daniels and smoked some weed. About ten minutes later we arrived at the baseball house. We walked through the open front door and made our way to the backyard. Because we were late they were out of clean cups. So I walked up to the nearest table and picked up an empty/used cup. Filling it up with beer, I chugged it, refilled it, chugged it again, and refilled it.
Wandering around the backyard, I found a few people I knew and I tried starting a conversation (I was pretty buzzed, so I don’t know if I was making any sense at that point). A few minutes later, a guy with a cowboy hat walked up to me and asked if I wanted some Tequila. It was one of those massive bottles, with a small handle. I said yes and he handed me the bottle. I took a small sip. I don’t what possessed me, but I turned to my “friends” and told them to watch me chug the bottle of Tequila. I put the bottle to my mouth and started drinking, the gold liquid poured down my throat and before I knew it I had consumed half the bottle. Satisfied, I returned the bottle and stumbled towards the house. This is when things get fucked up. When I entered the house, a “friend” of mine decided I would look better with a torn shirt. So without asking, they grabbed parts of my shirt and pulled, until it ripped open. I wanted to be furious, but I was too drunk at that point. So I stumbled out of the house, picked up another bottle and started drinking. As I walked towards this tree in the middle of the backyard, somebody bumped into me. I closed my eyes in pain and when I reopened them, I was in my bed covered in vomit.
I had blacked-out.
Forcing myself out of bed, I realized that I had vomited everywhere- all over my bed, floor, sink and walls. I started freaking out, so I called my dad and asked for help. He calmed me down and eventually I was able to clean up my apartment.
Unfortunately, something in my mind had cracked. Following that horrible night, I refused to go out; I never went to a party again, I ignored all of my “friends” and I started spending hours and hours in my dorm room. The world outside my door scared the living shit out of me and I refused to be a part of it. This was the first time in my life that I started showing symptoms of agoraphobia.
~
It was extremely hard for me to write about these memories. They embarrass me. They frighten me. And they remind me of my faults and fears. I hate the fact that I was so desperate to fit in, that I refused to admit I was being taken advantage of.
If you can relate, please don’t let yourself fall into the same trap I did. It’s not worth it. They are not your friends and you deserve a lot better!
Post Question:
Have you ever experienced a traumatic event that changed you mental state? And how have you addressed the change?
I hope you are all doing well,
Dave.
As I mentioned in a previous post I have been isolating, blocking myself off from the rest of the world. I have made a little progress- yesterday I saw my therapist, Thursday I went to see my psychiatrist and Wednesday I ran some errands. But I am still deeply scared of the world outside my door. Every time I try to convince myself to walk outside, I have an internal battle. My legs try to walk, but my mind fights back. So instead of walking forward I tend fall back into my chair, defeated, paranoid and anxious. The frustrating part is that I want to leave my apartment. I want to be around other people, but my mind won’t let me. I’m a prisoner to my fears and paranoia.
As a result of my isolation, I’ve spent a lot of time analyzing my past- trying to figure out how I ended up becoming a partial shut-in. I wasn’t like this in high school (ok, I wasn’t the most popular kid in school, but I had a few friends and I made an effort to go outside) or the first year of college, in fact I was both gregarious and confident. Then I realized something, in my sophomore year of college I started seeing my old therapist again. And after a few meetings, Dr. E diagnosed me with OCD and Agoraphobia. Using this period as a reference point, I tried forcing myself to remember the memories leading up to my diagnosis.
Eventually the memories started coming back.
They were dark, horrible and tragic scenes of a young me trying to fit in with the “popular” kids. At that time, I was desperate to fit in (yes, I know this is a typical scene from most high school and college movies, but this happened to me and the results scarred me for life) so I went to parties, I drank heavily with the football team and I made a fool of myself. At the time I didn’t realize they were taking advantage of me, pushing me around and treating me like shit. I didn’t care, because I felt like I was being included. Every day my self-esteem was taking a huge hit, shattering what little confidence I had in myself. This went on for a few months.
Then one night in mid-November, I attended a party that shifted the direction of my life. There was a party at the baseball house. A few of the football players invited me. (trigger warning, the following talks about alcohol use) Before we left, we each took a shot of Jack Daniels and smoked some weed. About ten minutes later we arrived at the baseball house. We walked through the open front door and made our way to the backyard. Because we were late they were out of clean cups. So I walked up to the nearest table and picked up an empty/used cup. Filling it up with beer, I chugged it, refilled it, chugged it again, and refilled it.
Wandering around the backyard, I found a few people I knew and I tried starting a conversation (I was pretty buzzed, so I don’t know if I was making any sense at that point). A few minutes later, a guy with a cowboy hat walked up to me and asked if I wanted some Tequila. It was one of those massive bottles, with a small handle. I said yes and he handed me the bottle. I took a small sip. I don’t what possessed me, but I turned to my “friends” and told them to watch me chug the bottle of Tequila. I put the bottle to my mouth and started drinking, the gold liquid poured down my throat and before I knew it I had consumed half the bottle. Satisfied, I returned the bottle and stumbled towards the house. This is when things get fucked up. When I entered the house, a “friend” of mine decided I would look better with a torn shirt. So without asking, they grabbed parts of my shirt and pulled, until it ripped open. I wanted to be furious, but I was too drunk at that point. So I stumbled out of the house, picked up another bottle and started drinking. As I walked towards this tree in the middle of the backyard, somebody bumped into me. I closed my eyes in pain and when I reopened them, I was in my bed covered in vomit.
I had blacked-out.
Forcing myself out of bed, I realized that I had vomited everywhere- all over my bed, floor, sink and walls. I started freaking out, so I called my dad and asked for help. He calmed me down and eventually I was able to clean up my apartment.
Unfortunately, something in my mind had cracked. Following that horrible night, I refused to go out; I never went to a party again, I ignored all of my “friends” and I started spending hours and hours in my dorm room. The world outside my door scared the living shit out of me and I refused to be a part of it. This was the first time in my life that I started showing symptoms of agoraphobia.
~
It was extremely hard for me to write about these memories. They embarrass me. They frighten me. And they remind me of my faults and fears. I hate the fact that I was so desperate to fit in, that I refused to admit I was being taken advantage of.
If you can relate, please don’t let yourself fall into the same trap I did. It’s not worth it. They are not your friends and you deserve a lot better!
Post Question:
Have you ever experienced a traumatic event that changed you mental state? And how have you addressed the change?
I hope you are all doing well,
Dave.