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I'm not sure where to start.. You'd think that running over

I'm not sure where to start.. You'd think that running over a single post in your head for a year would make it simple, but it never seems to turn out that way. Guess I'll start from the beginning, I apologize in advance for any rambling.
My father was a nightmare. A meth head that got sober long enough to fool my mother then relapsed. My earliest memories are just of him high, screaming at my mother, and throwing furniture. I was 4 when she left him, he came at me, and in a level of badassery I've never seen equaled my 5 foot nothing 95 lbs mother beat the crap out of a 6'4" guy with a wooden spoon and left with me. My mom has always been my anchor, the best person I've ever known. Her only flaw really is that she has terribly taste in men..She's never given up hope on me, despite the bad days, that turned into months, that turned into years as a combination of developing bipolar disorder, deep self-loathing and confusion over what I later realized was that I'm transgender, and the constant but innocuous emotional abuse from my new step father ravaged my psyche. The latter is what really did me in. A constant stream of criticisms, and put-downs, but never enough that I could really call him on it, nothing that I could point to and say, "See? This is what I mean. This is why I hurt." But I couldn't, and no one believed me, and honestly I didn't totally believe myself. It wasn't until fairly recently that I've truly gone back and reconsidered what was going on, after talking with friends that where in emotionally abusive relationships and realizing that I was quite familiar with their stories.
Fast forward a few years and I'll leave a trigger warning for suicide and self-harm.
I was 15, still dealing with the aftereffects of puberty ravaging my body in ways that I truly, truly hated. My Bipolar was in full swing, but I was still diagnosed so I thought I was just going crazy. I thought I was just the ****tiest human being in existence. School was bad, I was starting to fail classes because I could barely find it in me to get out of bed, let alone do five hours of homework. I never wanted to go home. I couldn't stand how my mom looked at me. She had done everything for me, taken 2 jobs and gone to school full time, got her PhD. She'd sacrificed everything for me and I was throwing it away because I couldn't bring myself to fill out a couple worksheets a night. I know she must have been furious, but she never yelled at me, just asked me if I was okay, and if she could do anything to help. Between that guilt, and the constant, chipping criticisms from my step father, where every time I actually managed to do something and start to dig myself out of the hole it shoved my right back in.
A bottle of advil later and I woke up in the ICU after two and a half weeks. I spent a fair bit of time in the psychiatric facility after that. When I got out I figured out that the friends I had weren't really friends at all. Next stop the the loneliness train? The internet. I started gaming, Mmorpgs mostly. Was one of the only things I've tried that I was ever really good at, but I was, so I went all in. I made friends, I lied about my age, which was pretty easy since I didn't sound much like a 15 year old anyways, but never said much beyond that. Until I met my best friend, who still is 7 years later. He was a bit older, mid twenties, and had really seen some ****. I could relate to the emotions, but not the actions. So I lied. I gave myself some crazy backstory to try and explain the feelings I have in a way that someone that hasn't experience severe mental illness or emotional trauma could understand. It was the stupidest thing I've ever done, and I've never regretted anything more in my life. It snowballed. 7 years in I have a group of online friends, good friends. The kind that everybody wants and none of us deserve. Least of all me. They only know the mask. They don't know that I'm a total failure. That I was given every chance in the world and I can't hold down a job because once a month I go manic so badly that sometimes the only thing I can do it sit in the bottom of my shower and try to not kill myself. They only know the mask. They don't know that I'm a worthless cowardly lier. That I'm everything my step father told me I'd be.

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[2930]
Dec 29

@xXSabrinaXx yes it does make sense, because even telling others about the intensity of the emotions and the compelling actions, it is still hard for them to fully understand if they have never experienced something this intense. I am glad that you are still making the effort to increase their understanding. Have you ever done any counseling/therapy or any medications? What are your thoughts about these?

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[40]
Dec 30

@kvolm2016 I've had counseling before, it didn't really work because at the time (I was 14-15) I had no interest in actually talking to anyone like that and just talked every therapist I had 'round circles until they gave up. Now, I can't afford therapy..

As far as medication goes, I am on Lithium currently, and I've been on about everything, and every combination of those meds. My psychiatrist is actually quite good, he was the first one to realize that I *wasn't* depressed/anxiety, and was bipolar and took me off the SSRI's; thank god. However nothing but Lithium has helped at all without having side-effects so bad they've put me in the hospital so far.. Nothing works, which is much the same story with my insomnia as well.

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[2930]
Jan 1

Glad to hear that you have confidence in your psychiatrist. I am sure it is frustrating that you have not had more relief from the meds. Seems like that is a constant battle for most people since our bodies change with time/age and other health issues.
If you could find affordable therapy would you be open to that now?

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