If you don't want to read an enormous post of all my psych. history and some of my love life, just jump to the 2nd post.
PS:My native language isn't english.
I was a gifted child diagnosed at the age of 3 because i learnt how to write and read on my own at that age. First time I went to a psychologist after that was when I was 15, because of depression. I cut myself constantly on the same place in my left wrist, I still have scars.
Apparently I had been dysthimic since I was at least 9 (when i started writing poems. in my first poem i mentioned suicide), so the diagnose was dysthimia with an episode of double depression. It went away after my grandfather passed away. I loved him, but the depressive atmosphere made me feel that there was nothing to be achieved by feeling depressed for his death, and I noticed I was feeling better compared to everyone else there (he lived in another city, so we were all living in the same house for a week or so). After that I went back to being dysthimic.
When I was 17 even got better from the dysthimia, in my opinion, and I was pretty happy and social until I was 18. Suddenly and for no apparent reason, I started feeling depressed and went back to cutting, but less severely. I trusted two (male) friends on that stage and felt pretty supported, the symptoms didnt go away but they didn't worsen. Then I started liking them, and they started liking me. I was closer to one of them. They kind of hated eachother and, when I had to decide, I was too depressed and confused and "chose" the one I was closer to. But then I noticed I just loved him as a friend, so I told him that and started going out with the other guy. He then became my boyfriend. These decisions were extremely difficult and worsened my symptoms, I would cry all day.
The one i tried to remain friends with would treat me like **** because of the situation, though then he repented. I was attached to him as a friend, so I would forgive all that and understand him even though he had an abusive behaviour towards me, until he even called me only to tell i was a ****h and all kinds of curses, and punched my boyfriend in the face at our university. We were all classmates in a couple of subjects so the situation was very tense. I went to a doctor who gave me prozac; it didn't do a thing. I stopped taking it after a couple of months because it made me have headaches that distracted me from my studies.
I started skipping some classes and developing "panic attacks", which were episodes in which I started feeling dizzy and then breathing very fast. That made me feel very afraid as I didn't know what was happening, and then I fainted probably because of the fast breathing. These episodes happened at night first, then they started happening during the day and even in classes. I would go to college only to see my boyfriend in between classes, as I felt physically and mentally unable to study properly even though I had mostly B's during the first semester. I went to the psychiatrist to get help with the panic attacks (i didnt know what it was, at first) and he gave me propranolol. It only worsened my depression. My boyfriend was very supportive, but after the propranolol, I just kept falling deeper and deeper into the hole.
I would think about suicide and kept thinking things would be better without me. I started becoming too attached to my bf in an attempt of feeling better. I started staying at his place once every two weeks, then once a week, then 2 and even 3 days a week. I didn't want to leave and I would usually feel very depressed at first and then even having panic attacks at those moments, because all I could think in my head was "This is probably the last time we get to see eachother". At this point I was unable to think clearly, I could think the same phrase over and over again for an hour crying, like "nobody cares if i die right now, they wouldn't notice in weeks".
Finally, as you might have guessed if you're still reading, I attempted suicide. It had been 7 months since I started going out with my bf. I felt he was with me out of pity, and he would've been better if I just died, as my struggle only keept sinking us both. I OD'ed on propanolol. Around 15 or 20 minutes after that I called my boyfriend. I only remember he asked me to look for help. I did so, and at that point I decided things would only get better now, as that was as depressed as I could possibly be. I went to an infirmary where they kept me for another 20 long minutes until the ambulance people came, pumped my stomach and took me to the hospital.
I stayed there for two horrible days in which i was watched over all day and all night by my parents and nurses. My bf went for very brief moments and I was never left alone with him. My father was very controlling all the time and I just wanted him to go away (my parents are divorced and I see my dad once a month for lunch (and done so for 10 years), so having him all day next to me treating me as a child and making my mom cry was horrible). I was very mentally unstable and though i wanted to recover, the environment only made things worse. I got angry at my bf for not going to see me. Just after that, they transferred me to a mental facility (I asked for it, my parents opposed). When I got there, they took my cellphone away and I started crying.
I tried to focus on getting better and telling my doctors only the truth.. But then, 2 days after not knowing anything from my bf (only my parents could visit me), i asked my mother to send him a message. His answer was he wanted to break up with me. I knew so through my mother. I couldn't get permission to see him until a week later. He went there to tell me so. They didn't even give me permission to talk to him in my room so everyone was watching. I lost all hope on getting better as all my progress went away immediately after this shock. I couldn't even cry, write or listen to music quietly because nurses would force me to get out of the room and watch tv or something. That place was horrible. I decided I would just act strong to get out of there fast. It took another week, but they let me go home with Sertraline and Seroquel.