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sarahschrad

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About sarahschrad

  • Birthday 12/22/1994

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    Female
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    Jacksonville, FL

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  1. I reconnected with an old friend of mine after a couple of years apart. The discussion got serious, and he has known since the beginning of problematic aspects in my life. Last week, I linked him to a couple topics of mine on here to help give a better insight on who I am, now and then, and I don't know if this has scared him or hurt him. Whatever the case, I hope that you find your way to this topic as well. You know how much I care for you. It is driving me crazy knowing that I may have pushed you away again, but if it means that you are happier or safer, I will take the sting of absence over the sadness I may bring into your life as well. I do not know what to do without you as my rock anymore. I feel lost in that proverbial forest of yours once more. I am scared, but this is home. A sick smile now stretches over my face. I care.
  2. I am very mad at myself. I'm at the point of nearly shaking from being so upset. My husband's grandparents have never met me in person, but because they saw on Facebook that I am an atheist, they've completely lost it and not only come out to insult me on numerous occasions, but refuse to get to know the person over the monster they've made me out to be. I've dealt with it for so long without snapping, and today they decided to cut all ties with me (limited as they were). I'm just upset with myself, but I know that it wasn't me who caused the conflict in this situation. I only hope that one day we will meet in person and they will see that I am not who they have already decided to paint me as.
  3. Yes, I've had them for many years. The migraines really came about after my depression began. It wasn't until the last year or so that the continuing sharp pain has come about. It last for days and days at a time, and doctors don't know what could be causing it. No bueno!
  4. Minipress is used generally to treat high blood pressure. I don't have a problem with the blood pressure, but both my therapist and physician recommended it because of the nightmares and the newly developing theory of the blood in the brain I mentioned in my original post. I've had many vivid and graphic nightmares usually involving me being ******** in some way. Always in a third-person perspective facing me while I am sleeping. Someone comes in and kills me by: Stabbing me with a knife Shooting me (pistol, shotgun, or rifle depending on the night) Using an ice pick on me Using a hammer on my head Using a pickaxe on my head Strangling/suffocating me And more. If it isn't that, it may be a memory or twisted reality. I feel everything, but do not control it. It is so dark, so intense, and it kills me. I've left bruises on my husband from the kicks and punches that my body throws trying to fight back against whatever is attacking me in my slumber. I have not felt rested in many many years. It all just seems to have been intensified by the new drugs, and I do not know if Effexor, Minipress, or both have had any influence on this.
  5. For me, the worst thing that I feel on a physical level are the headaches. Well, migraines actually. If it isn't at a full ten, it is around a four or five all of the time regardless of how much "sleep" I can get or what medications I take. The droning sharp pain or the pounding thumping with every heartbeat are what truly drives me over the edge. I begin to feel the pain intensifying, and I know that there isn't anything that I can do for it. It leaves me feeling helpless - why can't I solve such a minor problem? Most of my depressive dips are as a result of the pain. I beg that one day it leaves, that the pain is forgotten. I want to live.
  6. "Shots" by Imagine Dragons The lyrics resonate with me: I'm sorry for everything Oh, everything I've done Am I out of touch? Am I out of my place? When I keep saying that I'm looking for an empty space Oh, I'm wishing you're here But I'm wishing you're gone I can't have you and I'm only gonna do you wrong Oh, I'm going to mess this up Oh, this is just my luck Over and over and over again I'm sorry for everything, oh everything I've done From the second that I was born It seems I had a loaded gun And then I shot, shot, shot a hole through everything I loved Oh, I shot, shot, shot a hole through every single thing that I loved
  7. I was wondering if anyone has had any experience with overcoming -- or rather treating -- anxiety and PTSD in relation to cars, car accidents, and/or anything else related to automobiles? I went through a few different events that have scarred me, and over the last few years have slowly grown more comfortable being in the car as a pedestrian. It can change as sudden as when one flips a light switch when we hit a pothole or swerve suddenly, and I'm left teetering between my past and the present. I will scream and cry and feel like I am dying again. My body acts on its own, and my inside mind is left often wondering what I can do to stop the pain. It isn't nearly as common if I am in control of the vehicle, but it will still happen. Usually I will just black out for a second or two. I've driven halfway off of the road and onto a pedestrian walkway in two different events, for example. I'm from California originally, so when it snows here and I need to drive and the truck's wheels spin out a bit, I instantly switch from a cautious and watchful 3 - 4 to a solid 10. My husband laughs at me when I'm in such a state of pure terror, and I'm left feeling just about as low as one can. I know that I'm not alone, but boy do I feel it deep inside. Anything will help. Thank you.
  8. I was wondering if anyone has been prescribed both Effexor and Minipress? I was prescribed the Minipress for nightmares that I get in connection to my Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I am new to both medications, and find that the intensity and frequency of the nightmares have increased tremendously since beginning taking them. I have been on Celexa, Zoloft, and many more for my depression and anxiety, as well as other blood-pressure related medications for the nightmares (according to multiple physicians that I have seen, it is thought that if blood lingers for too long in the brain while you sleep, that produces more intense brain activity and feelings). I am ready to pop with frustration from built up exhaustion from the last few weeks of little to no restful sleep on a daily basis, and was interested in talking to anyone else with similar experiences with these medications who may be able to give a little more insight into how they may interact with one another. I have tried taking over-the-counter sleep aids alongside these medications, but it hasn't changed anything at all. My headaches have worsened as well. Thanks!
  9. Thank you all for the welcomes. I am seeing my therapist tomorrow, thank goodness. That is the plan anyways. My headaches and nightmares have gotten worse with my new medication, as well as pains all over my body and other stomach problems. If it isn't that, it's hearing various sounds and noises that my husband doesn't register that have me frightened. I don't know if anyone here has experience with various forms of psychosis, but I am afraid to bring it up with my therapist. The happiest time of the last year was when I was in the hospital because the people had to care for me, but to be forced into that position on my part frightens me. I'm already labeled a nutcase, and I don't need to add to those flames.
  10. Good evening. I can't help but feel as though my mental state is declining more and more rapidly as the days go by, and I do not have anyone to talk to in my life. My husband and his family have distanced themselves from me, just as my remaining family have. I am only twenty years old and have accepted what my final moments will be like. I am in the midst of an internal battle not to follow through with it, and this is one of my final resorts. I have been diagnosed with clinical depression, Panic Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I am on Effexor for the anxiety and depression, and Minipress for the nightmares. They constantly change my medicine, and I am currently sick from going through the ringer yet again. My father left when I was only a year old. He did so not only because he didn't want to be a father, but because it was beneficial on a monetary level for him to do so at the time. He did come back, but only because it was beneficial yet again to fill his pockets with what little money my mother had for us as a family. I haven't spoken with him in years. That is my choice. I only ever felt like a blank check. I lost my mother at the age of thirteen. For the last two years of her life, she was severely addicted to alcohol and various other substances (legal and illegal). She was a nurse when I was a kid, and towards the end of her career would steal medication to feed her demons. They let her go, of course. She was absent for most of the final year of her life. She lived at her house, while my brother and I were at our grandparent's. She's stop by occasionally to say hello to us. That stopped when we were in the car with her when she was drunk (we were children, I remind you). The tire outside of my window burst, and sparks filled my vision. All she did was laugh at me. My brother joined in, but he is autistic, and I do not hold that against him in the slightest. When she did come over, she was drunk and would throw me around and into the walls. The worst event, which had been repressed for many years, was her putting her hand down my pants and breaking my hymen. She became violent, but was otherwise usually dwelling in self-pity. My grandparents collected her bottles from my bathroom (her place of choice to drink), and they displayed them in the kitchen. They did this to embarrass her in front of her children, but it didn't work. I was nothing more than a pawn in a game. Finally they kicked her out. The last time I saw her, she was on the ground after my grandfather threw her out of the house. The last thing I said to her was in response to "I love you" - "Yeah," I said. Several weeks passed by, and we didn't hear from her. We left notes on her door at her home, but she never read them. I joked that she was dead. She was. We cleaned her house for a few days. I remember the yellow stain on the carpet where her body laid for three weeks. The fluids had spilled and colored the floor around her. The smell still burns my nose from time to time. They do not lie when they say that you never forget the smell of a rotting body. I took the blanket she was wrapped in to the dumpster, myself. I took the box of orange pill bottles and other narcotics to the dumpster, myself. There was no funeral. No obituary. No discussing mom. She became nothing but a ghost. I lived with my grandparents after my parents divorced. My grandfather was an alcoholic who was incredibly emotionally abusive, and on occasion would lay and hand on me. My grandmother was silent and damaged, and would not stand up against his motions. I do recall her joining in a couple of times when he got physical with me, but overall she was fairly neutral when conflict arose. He would use my mother against me. He made her into a scapegoat for many of his problems, and after her death, that role went to me. He was also sexually abusive - he would show me pornography at nearly all times of the day (in the kitchen, mind you). He wore a robe that hadn't been washed since before I was born. When my grandmother was not there, he would touch me and say things, but it was never more than petting. The worst was when he was just have me sit in front of him and look at "him." That too, was repressed for many years. I haven't spoken to him since I graduated high school and left. My husband suffered tragedy in having witnessed the death of his father in front of him at the hands of a drunk driver. We originally bonded over our childhood losses, but soon after realized our differing levels of trauma. I believe that all people handle such severe losses in vastly different ways. He sees my lingering problems of guilt as ridiculous considering he got over his feelings so many years ago. He is in the army, and sees my diagnoses of PTSD as ridiculous. I haven't told him about many events in my childhood because they are almost always diminished and I am left feeling weak - something e is not ashamed to tell me. He tells me that I am selfish for needing help, weak, ignorant, and forgetful. His words have cut deep. I have no job because we just changed bases. We have two vehicles, but he has claimed them both. I cannot work because I do not have a vehicle to myself. I am stuck at home all day every day unless I have a doctor's appointment. It has been this way for over a year now. I have no friends here. We got a dog because he wanted it, but I take care of it. He gets upset when I ask him to help me more. That goes with everything. I am a maid who he "gives it to" occasionally, and nothing more. I feel nothing, and I see no future. I was bullied for the entirety of my schooling for various reasons (and often no reason). There is so much more, but it kills me to even think about them. I have problems with flashbacks, and they are coming back right now. Forgive me. I checked myself into the emergency room a month ago because my husband got drunk after an argument, and made comments about how the situation mirrored that of my childhood with my mother (amongst other comments relating to her). I've been on so many different medications these last few months, and they changed them again during my stay. That didn't last, and this last week I was changed yet again. It is destroying my body, and today I wanted to go back to the hospital because I felt that the only people who even slightly cared are behind those doors. I plan to commit suicide. I often feel like I am the burden, so I would simply "remove the problem." My husband is being discharged from the army, so I stopped seeing my therapist a couple of months ago for fear of delving deeper and being suddenly cut off from seeing her because we do not know when he will actually be "fired." I have changed my mind and scheduled another appointment for this week. The only person who cares in paid to do so, but at least it is something. I wanted to share my past, my life, my illnesses, and where I am going. I hope to talk to someone here. - Sarah
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