The reason I joined this site is because the other night a panic attack came on so strong that I standing in the bathroom, body shaking, and holding a bottle of my grandmother’s prescribed bottle of Xanax. Fortunately I did not take the entire bottle, or even one—I just simply put it back in the medicine cabinet after about a half hour of contemplating. In the past when I had these attacks I would cut my wrist enough so it would physically and mentally ease my anxiety. That night I was far too exhausted and worn out from the nausea, throbbing headache, shakes, and aching/tense muscles. I’ve stopped cutting for obvious reasons.

My goal of this place is to resolve my issues, and I have also decided to do my best to help others with their problems too. We’re all here for the same reason. Got to help each other.

The two issues I am about to list are as big to me as being naked in front of a stage. I need to speak of these issues though, since they’re huge with my anxiety.

-I was born with a craniofacial hereditary syndrome (called Treachers Collins Syndrome) that has caused me to have at least one surgery every year of my life. Yet, I am still not satisfied with my appearance, and now I am in pain due to some of them. I am deaf, and wear hearing aids, have prosthetic ears, slanted eyes, an under formed jaw, and such noticeable scars. There are days that I feel so less than human, it really eats away—but there is no way I would tell this to anyone I know face to face.

-My mother is addicted to meth. Up until I was 12, I grew up as she basically dwindled away. The stuff I’ve witnessed at such a young age will probably haunt me forever. I was molested when I was probably around 4, and smoked a bong at 8 to put things in perspective. We were evicted constantly, in very tense situations with other lowlifes, and yet she continued with her ways. She had rarely tried to contact me after my dad gained sole custody and took me away. Today, most of that is repressed. I am going to visit my older brother and sister, who I am on good terms with and talk to regularly, in a couple months. My mother out of the blue contacted me on Christmas day through a text message, and I about died from the shock of it. She’s been active on trying to communicate with me lately…and I am trying my best to keep it going, though it’s so hard. I feel guilty for leaving my sister and brother there in that hell…and I love my family here, on my dads side, more than the world…but I feel so empty, and out of place…since a huge part of me is missing, and I haven’t even seen them for eight years! Eight years! I was a kid when I left…and now I’m off to college.

I am glad to begin speaking about these things…venting.