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  (#1 (permalink)) Old
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Name: Meg
Age: 24
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Location: Round Rock, Texas

Posts: 57
Join Date: January 1st 2011

Post The Story (Lengthy) [I Need Help!] - January 1st 2011, 02:50 AM

I don't really know which category this falls under exactly, but figured that "mental health" would just about cover everything, right? That's how I understand it, at least.
I suppose knowing the whole story would help your understanding significantly better, so be prepared for it; I apologize for the lengthiness.
It all started at the beginning of this school year (I’m a high school sophomore), at one of my classes. I had a friend I had known from previous years, but everyone else held entirely different faces, faces I had never really seen (or at least hadn’t noticed) before.
Anyways, in this class I met these people, but there was one person that stuck out to me in particular. His name, however, is going to remain known to me only, just in case. At one point in the year, we exchanged numbers. We started texting each other constantly. And very soon, we talked about things that, let’s just say, most people wouldn’t talk about, especially to someone they hardly know. He told me horrible things about his past and his family, about how he hears voices in his head that tell him horrible things, and about how he “wears several different masks”. He knew I wrote a lot of poetry constantly, and he started writing it too; we shared them to each other. All of this brought us closer.
He had, let’s say, throughout the year since then, hurt me romantically three times. The third time being when he ended up being with another girl. But he still confided in me, about everything. One of our conversations ended up the possibility of us having a suicide pact (this would have been my seventh time, and would have been his third time).
But it never happened, because he had gotten into some trouble. The next morning at school, a mutual friend me and his girlfriend had come up to me and told me “Do you know what’s up with [him]?” I, of course, said no. She continued on to say, “he threatened to bring a knife to school, and stab [his girlfriend] with it.” Later that day, I saw him at lunch, and we talked about what had happened with that situation. He told me that he had gotten drunk the night before, and then he was talking to his girlfriend on the phone when he told her everything; the voices, the “masks”, everything. She suggested that he was a schizophrenic, and he must’ve snapped at threatened her. Then, shortly after I had gotten home from school, I got a call from him. He told me that he was in his closet, with a knife close to his chest; he was planning on killing himself, but he wanted to hear my voice first. But I ended up being able to talk him out of it.
The next day at school (his relationship with his girlfriend was clearly over the day before), he seemed a lot better and a lot happier. He held my hand, smiled, and we talked. He told me he had also been planning on leaving his girlfriend for me, coincidentally, the day before. This blossomed into a relationship. He became my first boyfriend, and my first kiss. But that all ended within ten days. I, of course, was devastated.
A few days after the breakup, we started texting each other constantly again, as we had before and during the relationship. This is when it all took an ugly turn. He told me things like, “everything I told you was a lie”, “I started writing when I met you; I never had before you: think about it”, “the suicidal call was a lie, I just wanted to mess with you”, “I never felt anything emotionally for you, it was all physical”, and “I feel nothing but hatred and lust”. But I didn’t really react to it, at least not really. All I said, basically, was “so it was all bullshit?” and it clearly was.
Shortly after, I had become suicidal. I was writing that I was planning on killing myself by the time I wrote on the last page of my journal (which was maybe five pages away). Well, that day came. I called him and told him about this on the day I finished my journal and he just replied with, “Don’t do it. Just believe the lies that people are telling you, don’t listen to the truth and stay alive. I don’t want people to look at me and blame me for that crap. And I defiantly don’t want to pretend that I care that you’re gone, and that it’s all my fault.” I ended up not doing it.
Why? Because, as weird as it may sound, his perspective on people, the world, everything, I had gained. I hated everyone, I lusted for him. Hell, I even began to hear distant voices in my head, telling me things that I, at the time, believed and found refreshing , though now I see it as horrific. Doesn’t make sense? It’ll be explained later.
We ended up sharing these multitudes of dark thoughts with each other, and soon we ended up coming with this sort of plan. I had longed for a release from this earth, for it was sickening me, and he basically wanted new “games”. We planned for him to torture me, and to eventually kill me. We talked about ideas relating to this plan to each other, about all these things.
But we started to drift apart. His phone was taken away, because his dad had found out about his associations with drugs, and he was sent to a psychiatric facility for some time because “they” had found out about the voices in his head. During this time, I had gotten into a romantic relationship with someone else (whom I had actually planned on crushing, for I knew about his depression, and how easily breakable he was, as I, too, enjoyed playing “games”).
But he did, of course, eventually return back into touch. He was on medication, and seemed pretty different because of it (as well as because of his stay at the institution). But we were still pretty distant from each other, and my perspective began to change, back to how it was before even meeting him. (Confused? Just read the next paragraph.)
I went to a regular doctor checkup a few months after, and when my doctor asked my Mom to leave the room for a little while, I took the opportunity to tell her about my changing perspectives and such, just vaguely. She told me that it’s highly possible that I have SPD (Shared Psychotic Disorder). Of course, I wasn’t happy about it. She told me I should see a therapist, and if I could, and try to get some regular medication to get it under control. We kept this under confidence.
Everything seemed normal after that. At least, until I visited my best friends’ house just last week (She happens to live four houses down from him). That’s when memories sort of came back to me, and though I remembered everything perfectly, I had been basically hiding all of it in the back of my mind. I confessed everything to her, and we stayed up throughout the entire night talking about it.
And now we’re back to the present. For the past week, I’ve been “blanking out” and not being aware of my surroundings constantly. Basically every ten seconds or so, I “blank out” and it doesn’t feel like I’m present. I’m feeling nothing but fear. I can think of nothing else but him, the things we talked about, the thoughts I had in my head, how sick I was/am, how sick he was/is. I know his sociopathic mind isn’t gone, just the schizophrenic part is under control. I’m terrified, and I don’t know what to do.
I need help.
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Re: The Story (Lengthy) [I Need Help!] - January 1st 2011, 06:57 PM

Wow, This is very very long but its alright i read through it and i honestly think you should talk to a thearapist. It will help you get back on track, and you'll hopefully be feeling better soon.
I know i didn't help at all that much but if you need anyone to rant to and to write really long messages to Pm me (: And i'll offer the best help i can! I hope things get better !!!!!!!!!!!!!

Some things are beautiful because they are un-obtainable <3

'A dream is what you desire if anything and everything is possible.'
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Re: The Story (Lengthy) [I Need Help!] - January 2nd 2011, 06:40 PM

From what you've said it sounds like your Dr could be right, and that talking to a therapist is probably a good idea. I think people underestimate how much 'mind games' can mess with your head.. The guy who abused me was into drugs and things, and I ended up believing and thinking in the same ways he did about a lot of different things. It wasn't just the fear and hate of myself that had me believing and agreeing with him. I could truely see what he meant and that it actually sounded like it made more sense then what 'other' people thought. Medication is a personal things, some people agree with it, others don't. I think it'd be good for you to sit and think about these changes within yourself and try to decide how much its worth to change again.

Immobilized. Captivated and Hypnotized,
by all your evil lies.

я.ι.ρ ηαηηу -
уσυ ℓєƒт υѕ 3rd мαя¢н 2011.
ι ωιℓℓ мιѕѕ уσυ ƒσяєνєя «3

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lengthy, story

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