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Wow, it's hard to own up to how much of my life is controlled by my illness.
I have suffered since was twelve, school was very hard and my parents moved around an awful lot.
It became worse when we moved to Scotland when I was fourteen, and suddenly I was alone, no friends, my beloved Grandmother was in England and I became a shell of what I once was.
Teachers thought that by humiliating me I’d ‘toughen up’.
Fast forward, still had not been diagnosed (Doctors called it 'teenage issues') and I was eighteen when we moved again and the Doctor there told me that it was depression and anxiety.
That started the tirade of useless medication that did absolutely nothing to stop the problems.
I find Doctors like to shove that down your throat as it's cheaper than therapy.
Again, we moved back down to England a few years ago to be with my Grandmother who was ill and needing a heart operation, unfortunately that meant that I missed out on a psychologist appointment, so when we got down to Coventry (my birthplace) I got absolutely no help whatsoever.
Gone was my mental health nurse, hello to rude, incompetent Doctors who had no idea what to but prescribe Fluoxiotine which even at its highest dose did nothing.
My Grandmother died Christmas 2012, and that's when my illness just escalated.
I force myself to be sick as a way to control the anxiety, I get very frequent panic attacks which leave me shaky, unable to breathe and with constant chest pains.
I am dependant on soluble codeine/paracetamol tablets which I know do nothing, but I'm lost without them.
Battling depression and anxiety daily leaves me wary and angry.
I saw a trainee psychiatrist who told me 'breathing exercises', I won't even tell you how pointless that is!
Bi-polar was thrown around a lot in an earlier assessment, but I'm scared of what that could mean.
I guess I just need some form of comfort from fellow sufferers, as I’m falling apart at the seams.
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