snow14
10-11-2009, 12:41 PM
Hi all.
I'm new here. Apologies if I've contravened the rules or something. This is my story.
I'm 28, apparently very successful, and a living, talking, gibbering wreck. I've been on anti-depressants for nine years. My father died when I was in my late teens. I stumbled upon a dream career, which lasted for four years, then recently gave it up. My depression hasn't had too much of an impact on my day-to-day existence, as it's manageable, but the extras associated with it - chronic, painful shyness; embarrassment; chronic blushing; awful low self esteem, perhaps a sprinkling of agoraphobia, and certainly a lot of social phobia - are now ruining my life. I would rather be dead at the moment rather than fight this.
I changed jobs recently which many have seen as a promotion by others. I see it as a chance to lead a more normal life, and if I was to tell you exactly what I'm doing, you'd think I have the world at my feet. Unfortunately, I can't even go to the shops without having some degree of anxiety or panic attack. I have had a sickening feeling in my stomach for the best part of ten or 15 years. It controls where I go, who I see, when I see them. I am in constant, terrifying fear. The world, it feels, is on my shoulders - and in many ways it is. For someone of my age, I have responsibilities of looking after my ageing mother and elder brother, neither of whom have a penny between them. I am pathetic and scared of life. I'm only happy when I'm on my own. Like now.
Meetings at work occupy my brain for days/hours before they get underway - not for the content themselves, but for how I look. For how I sound. For how others perceive me. For how I'm looking. Am I looking confident? Why am I sweating? My face is often so red through embarassment or fear, it looks like I've done a marathon (I don't exercise for that exact reason, which I knowingly admit is a vicious circle. Chicken and egg. If you don't exercise, you get fat, you get sweatier, you're more prone to heart attacks. Yet I can't go out much without having those panic attacks, and I'm too ashamed of how I look to go running. Fun, eh?)
Deep down, I have tremendous self belief in what I do and can do. I have hidden arrogance. Unfortunately, I've only ever worked at about 30% of my capabilities, which means bluffing my way through. If I had normal confidence - let's say, if I could work at 80 or 90% of my known ability - I have absolute confidence that I'd be doing something extraordinary, something that really inspired me and others. I had it on a plate but couldn't take it; it was just too hard. I wonder whether this confidence is just me bullshitting myself, tricking myself into believing (through hope) that one day it will get easier. That one day I won't have this gut-wrenching hold in my stomach, the racing heart, the shaking, the sheer dread of having to talk to people. The dread of life.
I'm going back to the doctor soon, and have been offered therapy. I had a really successful time of it when I was about 21 - lasted for 18 months. Every single Tuesday. And it helped without a doubt, but I was in a much worse way then: I literally couldn't leave the house, wasn't eating, drank a lot and was in a state of total morbidity. Now, on the surface, I have it all there for me: I'm successful damn it! But I can't see it. And I've been on the verge of a massive breakdown all year.
I do not know if it will pass, and I don't know what the hell to do.
This is my life, my living hell.
I'm new here. Apologies if I've contravened the rules or something. This is my story.
I'm 28, apparently very successful, and a living, talking, gibbering wreck. I've been on anti-depressants for nine years. My father died when I was in my late teens. I stumbled upon a dream career, which lasted for four years, then recently gave it up. My depression hasn't had too much of an impact on my day-to-day existence, as it's manageable, but the extras associated with it - chronic, painful shyness; embarrassment; chronic blushing; awful low self esteem, perhaps a sprinkling of agoraphobia, and certainly a lot of social phobia - are now ruining my life. I would rather be dead at the moment rather than fight this.
I changed jobs recently which many have seen as a promotion by others. I see it as a chance to lead a more normal life, and if I was to tell you exactly what I'm doing, you'd think I have the world at my feet. Unfortunately, I can't even go to the shops without having some degree of anxiety or panic attack. I have had a sickening feeling in my stomach for the best part of ten or 15 years. It controls where I go, who I see, when I see them. I am in constant, terrifying fear. The world, it feels, is on my shoulders - and in many ways it is. For someone of my age, I have responsibilities of looking after my ageing mother and elder brother, neither of whom have a penny between them. I am pathetic and scared of life. I'm only happy when I'm on my own. Like now.
Meetings at work occupy my brain for days/hours before they get underway - not for the content themselves, but for how I look. For how I sound. For how others perceive me. For how I'm looking. Am I looking confident? Why am I sweating? My face is often so red through embarassment or fear, it looks like I've done a marathon (I don't exercise for that exact reason, which I knowingly admit is a vicious circle. Chicken and egg. If you don't exercise, you get fat, you get sweatier, you're more prone to heart attacks. Yet I can't go out much without having those panic attacks, and I'm too ashamed of how I look to go running. Fun, eh?)
Deep down, I have tremendous self belief in what I do and can do. I have hidden arrogance. Unfortunately, I've only ever worked at about 30% of my capabilities, which means bluffing my way through. If I had normal confidence - let's say, if I could work at 80 or 90% of my known ability - I have absolute confidence that I'd be doing something extraordinary, something that really inspired me and others. I had it on a plate but couldn't take it; it was just too hard. I wonder whether this confidence is just me bullshitting myself, tricking myself into believing (through hope) that one day it will get easier. That one day I won't have this gut-wrenching hold in my stomach, the racing heart, the shaking, the sheer dread of having to talk to people. The dread of life.
I'm going back to the doctor soon, and have been offered therapy. I had a really successful time of it when I was about 21 - lasted for 18 months. Every single Tuesday. And it helped without a doubt, but I was in a much worse way then: I literally couldn't leave the house, wasn't eating, drank a lot and was in a state of total morbidity. Now, on the surface, I have it all there for me: I'm successful damn it! But I can't see it. And I've been on the verge of a massive breakdown all year.
I do not know if it will pass, and I don't know what the hell to do.
This is my life, my living hell.