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Wabbit's Story

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I was born December 1st 1964; my given name is Sandra Rosemary Peake. I an youngest girl, and the fourth out of 5 kids. I was born at home in Gt Sankey Warrington Lancashire, as it was then, delivered by a midwife. My parents paid a pound 7 shillings and 6pence for my delivery. Nineteen days after I was born I was was put in Clatterbridge Hospital with a heart murmur. They treated it with digitalis, which is rat poison, I joke and say that they couldn’t get rid of me then, and ya still not gonna, I am too tough. Then I started getting abscesses, had to have some surgically removed. I have a dent in my right buttock cheek!


A month after my 5th birthday, my granddad died. He was the first in a long line of deaths. Eleven close family members and friends died within 10 years, including my mum and brother, from the age of 5-15.


Maternal: Grandfather 1969 Age 5.
Great Auntie Emily 1971 Age 7
Mum Age 10 July 23rd 1975 
Granddad May 1976
Best friend age 13 1978
Grandma 1978
Brother April 4 1978 13 .
Grandma age 13 same year as my brother July 23rd 1978 
Auntie Lizzie 1978
Uncle Jackie 1978
Auntie Olive: Jan 4th 1979.


People all around me were dying. I have such abandonment issues. You wonder why? I had a hard time dealing with this. When my brother died we were comforting our friends at the memorial service, it was very surreal. My brother had molested me several times. I was angry that he left but relieved cause I knew it wouldn’t happen again.


I didn’t do very well in school because I couldn’t concentrate. I was too busy goofing off. I started taking anti depressants when I was 13. I started overdosing on ativan soon after. I couldn’t handle my life. No one ever knew that I was ODing, or if they did, they didn’t say. I would sleep for days.


During this time I was date raped and continued a relationship with him, I didnt know any better, this is how men treated women, or so I thought


I finally left school, what a miracle that was. I went on government schemes, usually with young kids. I had a great time. For a long period of time I didn’t work, and I applied to go to the US and work as a nanny. They didn’t need me as a nanny, but they did need me to take care of their grandfather who had Alzheimer’s, so that is what I did, it was a few months after my 20th bday. I was here in less than a week because I already had my passport and visa.


It wasn’t until I was here for a while that I realised that my growing up wasn’t normal, that ppl didn’t treat ppl like that, normally. In 1988 I was sent back to England. I started working for an elderly gentleman that pinned me up to a wall and proceeded to rape me. I told his son, who talked me out of going to the authorities, saying that he would have done it to anyone. I bought it. I didn’t think much of myself. And I guess neither did they.


Whilst I was in England I was also writing to my now husband. He asked me in a letter to marry him, I came back to the US. We have been married for 13 years now, and I am deliriously happy, most of the time.


I think that I have been in therapy on and off for 20 years. 4 years ago I was hospitalised because I was suicidal. Then subsequently diagnosed with BPD and Major depression, and later on PTSD. Heck I even worked in psych. There were staff members at the hospital that had been my co-workers, that was really hard. It was like being in a twilight zone episode.


That is my life in a nutshell

Last Updated ( Wednesday, 19 August 2009 18:13 )
 

My Mother - I Deserved Better

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Last Updated ( Wednesday, 19 August 2009 18:08 )
 

==== Identity at a loss ====

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My name is Charlotte and my story may be a little different than others but I'm sure there are those out there who are feeling the same..I am a 43 year old woman with three children from my first marriage thirteen years.I didn't know anything was wrong except for maybe PMS but as it escalated throughout the years and started causing my mind to think crazy I then got a divorce from a wonderful man that actually took care of me.. What was wrong with that picture? I then started trying to find out who I was and with each relationship, I could never trust that someone really loved me or could be faithful. This has lead to a long road.

I was finally diagnosed with BPD after counceling through my second marriage to yet another wonderful man that couldn't cope with my mood changes. As a child, I was sexually abused by my step-grandfather and I don't know how long it continued and I suppressed it for about twenty years or so. I didn't realize a pattern in my life until I was about thirty two and my relationships kept repeating themselves with distrust and insecurity. I left my second husband after several years of marriage and personal counceling feeling unloved..

There was nothing he could do consistantly to show me.. He was so releived for me to leave but did not want to admit it. I'm in a loving relationship now and the BPD is starting over again.. Although I have been on EffexorXR for about three years now, I feel that something more needs to be done because I don't want to repeat this pattern in my life forever. My fiance' shows me love and support but at least once a week I start to whine about his love and wonder if he really loves me and wants me..I start feeling insecure about our relationship and it is putting a strain on our relationship and probably pushing him away. I can't let this happen now so I want to seek help in coping with this disorder. I feel that I have to for his sake and my peace of mind..

 

It's like never feeling loved unless someone is constantly showing and that is vertually impossible and too much pressure to put on anyone. I don't want anyone to have to feel this pain of insecurity all the time. It hurts me to admit that I have BPD, but at least there is a name for me..Thank God. But coping with it and trying to get better at the same time is very difficult on my relationship. But today, I am going to start doing what I need to to get better..My second husband always said I live my life through a song and I do believe he is right because I am a singer and I am really emotional about it and I find that when I sing, I feel better but at the end of the day, I am emotionally drained from it also. I

 

t feels like an emotional hang over.. But it does help..I have recently moved to another town with my fiance' and this in itself is a big strain, missing my family and my confidants and girlfriends and at this time I have no one here but my fiance' so he gets all of my emotions..Bless his heart.. But today, I am going to start getting better on my own and if anyone, anyone, wants to talk to me or if you have any advice, please feel free to email me and let's talk.. It does a body good to have friends to talk to in crisis even if it is just for that brief time of psychosis.. I need you and hopefully you need me..We all want to feel validated and needed so let's help one another..

 

Lovingly,

 

Charlotte

Last Updated ( Wednesday, 19 August 2009 18:23 )
 

Alcohol

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Well my earliest memory is of my sister taking me into a pub looking for our parents, I was 3 she was 5. It was dark outside and there were lots of drunken people, I still hate the smell of beer now. Alcohol ruled the house we lived in, it bought fear and violence with it. My parents had one of the most violent relationships I can remember. Every night was the same, we were put to bed and they would go out, then we would be woken up by the screams, either where my father was beating my mother or the other way around. Xmas was a terrible time, many xmas, s I would get up excited only to find my father gone and my mother unable to get out of bed as her body was broken from the night before. We moved around a fair bit to which gave me less security, at 5yrs old we were put into care as my mother had tried to kill herself and was admitted to an institution for the mentally insane. I wish I could say that the children's home was an unhappy time but it wasn't. It was quiet; there were people who cared about you. I felt loved and I enjoyed it so much that when the time came to leave and my father came for me I refused to go. I had to be forced to go with my father home.


My parents beat on each other but never us, which looking back was a blessing. My mother over her life has been admitted to many institutions, some for very long periods of time, I can not tell you how many times she has tried to kill her self, even to this day at the age of 65yrs she last attempted it 3yrs ago. She is on so many types of meds that I can't remember which is for what; life was like that until I left home. Growing up like it had its effect. I was a very depressing looking child (or so they say), I loved wearing black and I would leave little notes around the house saying r.i.p with my name on them. I remember 1 year I was woken up by my father's screams, I think I was 13yrs and as I jumped out of bed and made my way down I could see lots of people, they were ambulance people and they were trying to cut my fathers shirt off, he was screaming he was dieing. I could hear my mother crying and saying to the police that she stabbed him 8 or 9 times in the back, the rest of the night is a blur but I had to go and live with an aunt with my sister, my father was in hospital and my mother locked away for attempted murder, my father refused to press charges but the police prosecuted her and she was put away for months then remanded, I don't know for how long as I blocked that part out, again I was forced to go to a different school, away from my parents and friends. Then when I was allowed home, life slipped back to how it was, drink, rows, violence.


I remember my mother on many vacations yelling "I wont stab you, I will slice you from top to bottom". When I was 15yrs my sister left so I felt more alone than ever, but still the fights and the overdosing carried on. At 17 I met a man 10yrs older that I saw as a saviour and I left home. That's when I had my 1st panic attack. I was in the middle of town shopping and I thought I was going to die. They continued till this day, although not often, at 18 I found myself pregnant and in despair, I hadn't been a child so I did not want to be a mother, I tormented myself for weeks about a termination but thank god I didn't have one, but at 8mth my partner disappeared, I had a call 1wk later to say he was miles away and that he will come back when he was ready, that was just the start.


Anyway I went on to have a daughter, and when she was 9mths I found I was pregnant again, I was beside myself, I had a small child and a partner who liked running away for weeks at a time with out telling me, I decided that I couldn't cope. I went out and brought Epsom salts to bring on a miscarriage, but at the last minute I couldn't do it. I told my family and they were all against the pregnancy but I decided I would cope. Then at 3.5mths I had a miscarriage, I was filled with grief and guilt, I saw it as gods way of punishing me for not wanting the baby, I was put on meds. Then me and my partner got married and moved house, then I had my second daughter when my first was 2, maybe to compensate for the baby I lost I don't know, then we moved house again and when my youngest was 3 I received a letter saying my husband was having an affair, the affair had started before we married, the affair was also with another man, my world had caved in and I was sedated for a few days and put on more meds.


In-between I had seen councillor after councillor, cpn after cpn, so this to me was the last straw, my mother was still drinking, and the rows had eased off, as my dad wasn't being her drinking partner. So I felt that some part of my family was normal, and then I decided to kill my self, it was totally pre meditated. I wrote letters to my children, telling them who to trust and turn to in need, I wrote a will and I had secured who would look after my children. But I hit a turning point, I don't know where or how or when, I put it down to someone up there impressing it on me to live. My life suddenly turned around, I was penniless but in a quaint way happy, my weight had fallen to 6 stone where I refused to eat, partly because I didn't want to but I wanted to feed my children, I didn't count, don't get me wrong my family and friends were beside there self, bringing me food parcels, but I had to be ready and eventually I was, I was still seeing shrinks still on meds, still a little unfocussed but alive. I started going out in the pubs and clubs, to be honest I went a little wild, I slept around and would rather go out than eat ect. Then I met a new man who stopped me in my tracks. He moved in and we married 7yrs later. Then at 5yrs old we found out that my daughter was diabetic and would need injecting twice a day, that gutted me more than everything else, I gave birth to her to try to save a failing marriage and to compensate for a child I lost and I had condemned her to a sick unhealthy life, but she showed me that she could cope so I had to show her I could. I still get low I mean it's bread into me, my mother is still drinking, my sister is on meds for the rest of her life, she would never manage without them...ever. Me I gave up on meds long ago. Some times I think that's a big mistake some days I don't. I have seen the dark side of depression, believe me. I have missed out a lot of my life in this story as some things are best left buried, one day they may raise there ugly heads, hopefully not soon. I didn't want my husband or my children to be dragged into my past that is why I refuse meds, I used to watch my mother take hers and 34yrs on she still takes them, to me they never helped her, or she would be like my mates mums...normal. Anyway that's part of my life and me. The moral is that depression is not exclusive to any one... it can get you at any time anywhere, but it can be controlled if not beaten. Good luck to all and their fight for freedom from it.


Take care xx

Last Updated ( Wednesday, 19 August 2009 18:25 )
 

Anon's Story

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The earliest memory I have is my dad leaving. Then he came back. Then he left again. There was a lot of violence in my family. My dad used to hit my mum, almost killed her once and me and my two older sisters watched him. He knew we saw him kick my mum and punch her. Apparently, he used to hit my sister's too, but I don't remember seeing that. My eldest sister said that I never got hit, but I have a distant memory of my dad taking his belt off and whipping me with it (but I don't know for definite if this ever happened).

When I was about 12 and my dad was living with one of the many women he had had affairs with, he decided to disown all of us because the Child Support Agency had asked for more money for me. He didn't speak to us for about a year, then one day he saw one of my sister's and told her that we could now call him. I phoned him up and told him how much pain he had caused me, that I had been crying every night, in so much pain because I wanted my dad but he didn't want me. And he laughed. And he said that all the things I could remember hadn't really happened, that I had imagined them.


I can't remember how old I was but once, my dad was looking after me on a Saturday, as usual but when he came to drop me off back home, my mum wasn't in. It turned out that she had decided to go out for the day and was stuck in traffic on the way home. So my dad waited with me and when my mum returned, he said nothing and left. The next morning, there was a knock at the door. It was my dad and I was excited to see him as I thought he was missing me. But when I opened the door, he pushed me out of the way and my hamster that I had in my hand flew across the room and couldn't breathe properly. My dad went into the kitchen where my mum was and pushed her to the floor. He kicked her over and over again in the stomach. I was crying and tried to make him stop but I couldn't. I can't remember any more about that day. My dad would just change. My sister says you can see it in his eyes. Home was very unsafe. Everyone was always trying to hide information about what had happened from me.


My mum used to go out a lot when I was little and she used to leave me on my own quite often. I used to see ghosts when she was out and used to panic that she would never come home, so I would put the kettle on and have to jump over the carpet a certain amount of times so I could convince myself she would be ok and would not leave me.


My mum was upset most of the time, so I would have to comfort her and look after her as my sister's had left home. I was always making cards for her and writing letters to her to try to make her feel better.


Once, I fell over and needed to go to the hospital for an x-ray and a tetanus injection. I had to have the injection in my bum and when any of the nurses came near me, I freaked out and ended up kicking them away. They were concerned about my behaviour and sent a social worker round to my house. I heard my mum and my sister talking to the social worker about me, but no-one got me any help. I so needed help as I was hurting so much, my school work was suffering, I was crying all the time and I was constantly making up illnesses, everyday there was something else wrong with me. But nobody helped me. No-one could see what was happening to me. I was always trying to break my leg, I don't know why. At school, I was always trying to cut myself with the end of a pair of compasses.


We had two dogs but I used to hurt them. How horrible is that? How evil am I for doing that? I used to stop my friends from leaving my room. By the age of 14, I'd already started having sexual relationships, very carelessly.


When I got to college, I still couldn't stop crying so I went to see the college counsellor, but that seemed to make everything worse.


When I was at Uni, I buried myself in my work, not allowing myself to socialize, working 12 hours a day every day and I wasn't going to be satisfied until I got a first-class degree. Even when I got a first I wasn't happy. I wanted to be the best, to do everything perfectly. I saw the counsellor at Uni too, but I couldn't really talk to her as I was too angry.


When Uni finished, I had nothing to hide behind anymore and that's when everything fell apart. I began working in a fancy dress shop but was so horrible to people, this is when I started to notice my moods swinging and first went to my doctor about these problems. I saw more counsellors but none of them could handle my emotions and passed me on to other people.


Since then, I have been in and out of hospital, diagnosed with BPD last year. I am now in psychotherapy and attend a day hospital twice a week. I am married now after having many doubts about my sexuality. I met my husband in hospital as he has also been a patient there. We were married 3 months later. Six months after getting married, I got pregnant after contraception failed. We both decided the 'best' thing was for me to have an abortion as there was no way that either of us were well enough to have children. I was also told by my gp that if I were to go ahead with the pregnancy, he would have to get social services involved and I would probably have to have my child fostered. I think about the 'baby' all the time and still find the experience extremely traumatic.


There is so much more to tell, but I'd be here all day and I'm sure that if you've read this far you'll be very bored by now. I just felt like writing this here.

Thanks for reading.

Last Updated ( Wednesday, 19 August 2009 18:17 )
 
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