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chibby , 09 Feb 2011

My experience so far.

Its been almost a year since the day I lost my mind. I remember crying, preaching, giving the delivery guy a forty dollar tip, and being escorted off campus by the police. I remember getting arrested the next day, trying to escape from a hospital, being sedated and arrested again, sitting before a judge in chains so drugged up I couldn't even raise my eyes to meet his own. Then waking up on suicide watch in the psychiatric ward. Shit, It feels like yesterday. I'm a 20 year old male, and a college student. I've been picking since middle school. It started with mosquito bites. I'd aggressively squeeze them until they scabbed over. Then pick the scabs and repeat. Soon, I was picking pores in areas that could be hidden. Chest, arms, legs, etc but never my face. In high school, I began to be bullied. I mean humiliated and intimidated every day. Harassed because of my race, etc. The management didn't take it seriously. I can remember one incident where I was struck with a steel chair and got a puncture in my lower lip. I still have a pretty prominent scar. Its almost as if on that day, the weight of the world was placed directly on my shoulders. I became obsessed with my hair and began to worry that I was going bald. I told my parents who at first tried to console me. Later, they grew tired of my complaints and called me obsessed, vain. I felt abandoned. I started pulling hair from around my hairline (maybe in an attempt garner attention). When I graduated and started college a year early , I felt naked. Like whatever self esteem I'd garnered over the years had just melted away. I picked occasionally, but my primary concern was my hair which I still pulled. I had friends but I felt inferior, like everyone just tolerated me. In my second year, the classes got a lot tougher and I began picking in earnest. The worst damage occurred during late night study sessions. I'd creep off to the bathroom and squeeze and my pores. My face would be bruised for weeks. Later that year. I looked in the mirror and realized what kind of damage I'd done to my face. The realization was soul shattering. I had permanent damage, Ice pick scars and saggy pores which could only be MITIGATED by risky, expensive plastic surgery. I tried to block it out of my mind, but within six months it became all I could think about. I couldn't function. My dad, a Physician offered me anti depressants. I wanted to hide from the world. I'd spend every day in my room, in bed with the covers over my face. I went from scoring 100's to getting 5% in my exams. I considered suicide. I spent hours combing the internet climbed to the 22 floor lounge of one of my universities' residential buildings and tried to force myself to jump. I can't tell you how many "last meals" I've , washed down with orangeade from that buildings basement vending machines. Finally, I went to the ER complaining of suicidal thoughts. I wanted to be kept there at least overnight but ended up being released the same day. My parents told me I was just stressed out, there was nothing to worry about but my dad got me an appointment with one of his friends, a psychiatrist and soon I was on Prozac. Things got better. My problems seemed to fade away. I gained confidence I had long forgotten. Soon I was able to talk to people again, to have fun. I started dressing colorfully again. Talking to girls, feeling like my old self. A few days later, things started to become strange. I was so excited for the following day that I couldn't sleep. I was doing a million things at once. Cleaning out my entire room/ common area, single handedly, transporting loads of clothing and tents to send to Haiti, doing projects. I became Increasingly emotional, before I knew it, I'd spun out of control. I remember running away from campus because my brother, my friends thought I was "crazy". They all formed a search party to find me, and to calm me down, to send me home. I cried when I saw them all together and realized this. Even as I write this tears come to my eyes. That was a year ago, I've since been diagnosed with bipolar I and am on medication and undergoing therapeutic treatment. The medicines are difficult to take and have side effects which aggravate my skin picking condition and self consciousness. Tooth decay, acne, hair loss. . After staying home for a semester I've returned to college I feel as if my spirit is broken. I've alienated so many people I care about. The concern I see in my friends is warming ,but I want to be respected, an equal not pitied. It was extremely windy today, I walked back from class and my eyes started to run over. It was so bad I stopped bothering to wipe them away. I ran into a good friend from freshman year who couldn't stop asking me if I was okay. I was touched but the whole thing felt more than a little weird. Every day feels like a battle. Some more than others, but every single day...
2 Answers
February 10, 2011
hey. it takes a lot of guts to share a story like this one... and a lot more to have made it through all this so far! i just want to tell you that people are here for you! this is kind of a weird way to support each other, since none of us know anything about each other, but i think that makes it so much more real -- each of us could be ANYONE in any of our lives. all people have struggles, which makes us human. and ALL of us can overcome them... stay strong, and keep trying!
March 13, 2013
L’heure d’été est considéré comme une période de temps pour que les individus relax.In d’autres termes, il est grand temps pour nous de tomber asleep.When été à venir, nous avons été fatigué et a perdu notre enthousiasme à tout. Et comme un étudiant, tout en utilisant saison estivale le

beats studio

temps est si long. Nous engageons régulièrement notre période la plus à dormir.

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