I lost my mother when I was nine years old and I am now twenty-nine. I was living with a close friend two years ago when her mum died of exactly the same illness as mine. It triggered a complete breakdown, that and the rejection of a guy who I thought something was about to start with, and who ended up just wanting a one-night stand. I woke up one morning with a knot of dread in my stomach and a desire to be unconscious. The friend I was living with found a boyfriend shortly after her mum died. It was just her and me and him in the flat all the time, and she always talked about herself and sucked up all the energy in the room, and I didn't want to say anything about how she made me feel to a grieving person. But I was so angry, I was like, 'Who looked after me after my mum died? Who has been looking after me all these years when I've been on my own?' I think I subconsciously avoided intimate relationships because I was so afraid of abandonment. But the whole situation made me feel as if everyone in the whole world deserved to have at least one person on their side, except me. Everywhere I looked, the world screamed this message at me. One day I received a letter from a debt collector and collapsed into hysterical tears. Another time I was alone in the flat and I realised I was about to spend another evening alone and I ended up on the floor, screaming and crying, 'I just can't do this anymore!' I ended up taking a couple of Panadeine or Mersyndol (the codeine stabilised my mood, and i took it to go to the few shifts at work i was doing too) and wandering the streets until this guy picked me up in his van and we went to a party and I had a one night stand with this dude, which was okay probably the one time the universe answered my desperate cry for intimacy. It was all one confused jumble where I felt I would die if I didn't find someone to take care of me, to absorb all the years I had struggled through with no mother and social phobia and OCD and a verbally abusive father and people just being people, picking on the weak and all that. People they don't look to see what's going on underneath; I didn't even know myself. I was seeing a life coach for a bit and then I broke down in one session and we realised I needed to deal with my mother's death before I could move on to achieve any of the other goals I was trying to set for myself. I also broke down in a stupid job-training session, and I was in a play at the time, and I was supposed to go on stage when I had just been having a three-hour anxiety attack, so I just loaded up with red bull and went on. I ended up moving back to my home two states away, and things weren't better. I was trying to avoid anti-depressants, determined to deal with my feelings, not just cover them up, but I WAS taking valium to get by. Anyway, one morning I had taken my valium but was still throwing up with anxiety. I was determined to go to this job I was supposed to start, but I realised on the way that if I went in there I was going to break down in tears and make a 'fool' of myself. . I was right near a bridge and I said to myself, 'I'll test myself. I'll dare myself to jump, just contemplate the possibility.' I didn't think I would be able to go through with it. I realise now that I was deeply split in two; one part of me wanted to jump off that bridge right then and there, the other was terrified of dying, so I played a game with myself. And the game ended with me climbing up on the railing, working up to it, first looking over, then SITTING on the railing, then finally climbing up to stand on it. I got to look out, but not down before a guy stopped his car and I got down. I had mentally let go. I had resigned myself to my life ending here, at 27 years of age. We have to die sometime, I thought, and I've failed; I have no kids, no partner, few people will care if I die. But this guy stopped his car and came over and I got down, ironically out of some primal fear that he might push me off! I wanted to be in control of the decision. I hadn't been planning it or anything, it was quite impulsive and I hadn't quite worked up the nerve to actually jump, and a big part of me wanted to stay alive. I let the guy take me to hospital and I ended up on Effexor-XR anyway, and it seems I'll never get off it; I'm on a huge dose and while I am not suicidal anymore I want to know when I can go off it. I have just increased my dose off my own bat from 600 to 750mg a day, a decision I made yesterday because I was breaking down again; yelling at shopkeepers and call centre staff for being morons, crying all the time, full of hatred and anger. I haven't worked for a week and a half or performed or anything. I can't see my shrink for another month. My friend has recommended a good hypnotist, and I have booked a session for grief counselling. But I feel like a zombie walking through life in this fake, drug-mediated existence. I have a very low frustration tolerance and quit a really good job because i had a fight with a colleague. I can't seem to get it together in terms of material circumstances; I never have. Fortunately I have a wonderful boyfriend at the moment with whom I live. I sometimes think if it weren't for him I would've gone back to the bridge by now, and not in peak hour this time. Right now I feel okay. Can anyone relate?
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