u/DepressedFrenchFri3s

Ive been going through a really hard time at home. Ive been trying to find a job so I can move out, and my home life is... not the best well just say.

Ive been really good at not having breakdowns at school, and emotionally controling myself. But as of late, its like any little thing will trigger me.

Today, I started crying because I had a 9 AM color application on my books for tomorrow, and a 1 PM appointment. The 1 PM appointment is for my friends mom, who is going to come in to get me markoffs.

The issue with color application appointments, you basically come in blind to what youre going to deal with. Its either a easy all over color, or a huge color correction that will take all day. And when I asked the receptionist if I could take over other people's appointments(if the books were too full) and have someone else do it. She basically told me no, and that everyone else was a special request.

Which sent me spiraling. I didnt like scream or yell, but I went in my car and had a panic attack. And eventually I just keep building myself up and up to the point where its not even about the appointment. I was basically openly crying(trying not to) infront of everyone and shaking a little bit. I dont think I was actively mean to anyone, but I wasnt nice. I was more agressive and uncoordinated with my movements if that makes sense. Which I know makes others nervous/uncomfortable.

Its incidents like that. So far ive only had 2 or 3 of these incidents. But it used to be like, never happen, to happening once weeks. Since just 2 weeks ago I had to be sent home for a similar reason. I didnt have to be sent home as it was literally the last 15 minutes of school, but still.

I dont know what to do or how to calm myself down. I try to do deep breaths, counting, and rationalizing the situation. Then Ill calm down for a few seconds, but then Im immediately back to panicking. And theres no isolated space to hide in except my car, and I cant run to my car and spend 30 minutes calming myself down every time I feel like this.

I just got put on aderall a few days ago, and I am still genuinely confused about something.

Obviously I know adderall can cause you to forget to eat/not be hungry. Which is fine, I like food and honestly eat it anyhow. And I am at a healthy weight, so I want to maintain that. I like how I look, so even if forgetting does becomes a problem, Ill just set timers and reminders to eat.

What I am wondering is if when you get off of it. I know appetite returns, but like how? Does it come back with a vengeance? Or is it something that will slowly come back and youll eat like how you did before? I know weight gain will happen, but on average what severity? Are we talking about a couple of pounds or 20+?

Another question I have, is in the off chance you do lose weight on Adderall. Will your body be used to eating less? So then your appetite isnt as strong, even when getting off of it? So its a "normal appetite" for the weight youre at and how youve been eating? So if I make sure to not forget to eat, I wont have to worry about that? Or will I have to eat more then I want to gain the weight back?

Idk. Ive tried looking it up, and all it says is that youre appetite returns. But I am confused by that, since outside of chemical reactions not making you hungry. When you eat less and lose weight, youre body wont be used to eating as much.

Hopefully Im making sense! I honestly dont think this will be much of an issue with me. But I do have a past history of disordered thoughts/eating. Like restricting, then binge eating. (Nothing severe, I was never underweight, or really had it become a huge issue in my life) So I am slightly concerned Im just going to maintain my weight, and then get off of it, and then gain a bunch. Or somehow lose weight, and then have to force myself to eat more then comfortable to gain the weight back.

So! If anyone has experiences with being on aderall for a few years, but then had to get off of it, how did affect your appetite?

If its any relevance, I am on extended release. And I plan to stay on that in the far future

A few weeks ago, I cut very deep. And I am starting to br worried I nicked my flexor tendons in my arm, as I remember this searing pain. And then my entire forearm went numb, and now certain parts just hurt. Especially in my wrist/thumb area, like it genuinely really hurts and is always sore to the touch. Moving my hands in certain directions also hurt, or just feels tight.

I cant extend my arm properly without this electric pain. And my scars are just so layered, and constantly uncomfortable. I keep getting ingrown hairs near them, and I cannot pop them/pick at them, because the skin is so tight. And it hurts. Literally no form of touch or pressure outside of my clothes can go on my arm without discomfort. Literally cannot rest my arms or hands on a table without discomfort.

Im a cosmetology student, so my mobility is crucial to my job. And I have a hard time working ergonomically due to this, and I am already starting to develop carpel tunnel syndrome, and I cant even do the proper arm exercises or massages to help it. Since itll literally just hurt.

Does anyone have some sort of advice? Ideas on what I can do. My wrist is honestly 90% scar tissue layered over scars. And I am at a loss. I try to put lotion on it, but I struggle to even do that due to how uncomfortable it feels.

I keep having nightmares where I severely cut myself, and like the next day I try to clean it. And when I do, I somehow reopen a nerve or artery and it starts bleeding so much. And everytime I can feel it too, like physically. Heart rate increases, shortness of breath, impending sense of doom along with being so so tired. The feeling hot blood literally pouring out of you, spurting. And at first you arent too scared, but the feeling hits you quickly. I remember in my dream I tried to stop the bleeding after a second, and I could feel my *pulse.* It was disgusting. And when I realized I couldnt do it, I just gave up. Layed down in the bathtub and watched myself. (Idk I was in the shower in my dream) I remember thinking before I woke up, "this is a peaceful way to die. I dont need to be scared."

Its horrible. Whenever I have those dreams, I have tried to get help. So it is disturbing and almost telling to me how bad its been for me lately. The fact I didnt even try to get up, or call my family for help. I just... let it happen.

I am starting to wonder if I have traumatized myself. I always cut wayy too deep, and yesterday I hit something and my entire arm is numb. But at the same time, I am drunk 90% of the time I cut. So now I am wondering if I have some repressed memory trauma shit going on.

Idk. I keep having nightmares like this, and every time its just as vivid. Like I physically feel myself dying. Not just in a "haha scary dream way" I *feel* it and it doesnt go away until I startle awake. It doesnt hurt, most of the time. Its just like anxiety because you know youre going to die, and you cant do anything about it

I keep having nightmares where I severely cut myself, and like the next day I try to clean it. And when I do, I somehow reopen a nerve or artery and it starts bleeding so much. And everytime I can feel it too, like physically. Heart rate increases, shortness of breath, impending sense of doom along with being so so tired. The feeling hot blood literally pouring out of you, spurting. And at first you arent too scared, but the feeling hits you quickly. I remember in my dream I tried to stop the bleeding after a second, and I could feel my *pulse.* It was disgusting. And when I realized I couldnt do it, I just gave up. Layed down in the bathtub and watched myself. (Idk I was in the shower in my dream) I remember thinking before I woke up, "this is a peaceful way to die. I dont need to be scared."

Its horrible. Whenever I have those dreams, I have tried to get help. So it is disturbing and almost telling to me how bad its been for me lately. The fact I didnt even try to get up, or call my family for help. I just... let it happen.

I am starting to wonder if I have traumatized myself. I always cut wayy too deep, and yesterday I hit something and my entire arm is numb. But at the same time, I am drunk 90% of the time I cut. So now I am wondering if I have some repressed memory trauma shit going on.

Idk. I keep having nightmares like this, and every time its just as vivid. Like I physically feel myself dying. Not just in a "haha scary dream way" I *feel* it and it doesnt go away until I startle awake. It doesnt hurt, most of the time. Its just like anxiety because you know youre going to die, and you cant do anything about it

For real. Fuck thus. Fuck it all. Duck my familt who I love.

All I feel bad for is my dog. Idk. Ill be Alice tomorrow. But the question is fot how long. How long? HOW LONG? how long must I live go realize mt entire like has been shit

Im so drunk. I stile..i.stile. I stole shir from my family to jave the ensureance I wont be drunk. Oh my god. So rarely fo I steal. I just cant stand not beinf blacking out

Until my last breath, I smiled.

Until my last breath, I talked.

I smiled, talked, interacted. People loved me. I loved them. Until my last breath I felt human, a being born into existence and made this wonderful gift called life. I enjoyed the scenery, beautiful lakes and oceans. Trees that spread so far, it was beyond my comprehension.

Until my last breath, I cried.

Until my last breath, I begged.

I cried, begged, cut myself, drank. Destroyed my personality, forcing myself to scrap the parts I hated. They never disappeared but they became less obvious. Hidden in the corner of my mind. I altered myself, pretended, cried, begged, dreamed of being different. Of having a different family, different life prospects. I dreamed of a life id never have.

And eventually, when I sit there on my death bed. Either from me being drunk out of my mind, alone in my bedroom. Or in a nursing home dying from olf age. I will breathe my last breath, and I will cease in this disgusting, horrible, beautiful world.

I post here a lot about myself, but this is somewhat related I guess.

I came home today after a really productive happy day. Wasn't even thinking about alcohol, which is the first time in forever. It was my first real happy day after awhile. I went to school, got tons of markoffs, finally got a hold of braids. Might even be able to level up soon in my program!!!! I even got to hang out with my best friend after school.

It was great.

Then, on the drive home, I did unfortunately speed. I know its bad, but its a 45 minute drive home when Im in down. And I get really. Really. \*tired\*. And I sometimes just want to get home as fast as possible. I was zoning out listening to music. Got pulled over. I deserved it, but still increadibly stressful when youve up up for the past 12 hours with only 4 hours of sleep. But I got pulled over. Luckily just got a warning, but still. I hate getting in trouble.

I get home, tell my mom what happened. I obviously get in trouble, but it wasnt too bad. She basically tells me to stop, and that if I get pulled over again she wont be able to afford the insurance. I apologize, take accountability. And idk, I guess I wanted to see her. Im busy with school all the time, and shes been busy with other stuff. I dont see her often. I just wanted to have a good interaction with her.

She fucking drinks alcohol right infront of me to make me leave. While saying she loves me, as I walk out.

For context: my mother is an alcoholic. She has hit me, vented to me about problems, and had made me severely uncomfortable when shes drunk. I know its not that bad, but still. I get scared to leave my room at night because I know 9/10 shes drunk and I dont want to hear about her talking about my mental health issues, or her venting to me about her own fucking trauma. Its feels worse then it sounds. I dont know. I remember her whole "sober era" where she went to rehab, lasted a week, and called us demanding we pick her up. Where she would be erratic, constant mood changes. Her relapsing because she had a bad day, and spending the entire car ride going home just berating me over every little mistake I made in my life. Her "dry drunk" mood changes.

At least in the past she lied about being sober when she relapsed.

Idk. Im genuinely so fucking upset. I had a GOOD DAY, something that rarely happens to me. A genuinely good day. Just to get pulled over, and then have me mom weaponize her alcoholicism against me so I'll leave her alone.

AND IM A FUCKING ALCOHOLIC. I drink almost every day to every other day. So now I want to drink, but on the otherhand I dont want to be like her. I dont want to be all high and mighty and then proceed to get fucking sloshed myself. But I want to. Im so upset right now. Why would she do that to me? Fine. I get it. Just tell me you want some alone time. You dont have to drink right infront of me to make me leave. She knows what shes done to me while under the influence. Shes a fucking liar. At least I dont lie, pretend I'm sober, make a huge fucking deal about it. And then relapse and not having the shame to not drink infront of her child. Im not mad at her for relapsing, maybe I am a little but I understand its what happens, Im fucking pissed at her for this shit.

Im so done with my life.

I post here a lot about myself, but this is somewhat related I guess.

I came home today after a really productive happy day. Wasn't even thinking about alcohol, which is the first time in forever. It was my first real happy day after awhile. I went to school, got tons of markoffs, finally got a hold of braids. Might even be able to level up soon in my program!!!! I even got to hang out with my best friend after school.

It was great.

Then, on the drive home, I did unfortunately speed. I know its bad, but its a 45 minute drive home when Im in down. And I get really. Really. \*tired\*. And I sometimes just want to get home as fast as possible. I was zoning out listening to music. Got pulled over. I deserved it, but still increadibly stressful when youve up up for the past 12 hours with only 4 hours of sleep. But I got pulled over. Luckily just got a warning, but still. I hate getting in trouble.

I get home, tell my mom what happened. I obviously get in trouble, but it wasnt too bad. She basically tells me to stop, and that if I get pulled over again she wont be able to afford the insurance. I apologize, take accountability. And idk, I guess I wanted to see her. Im busy with school all the time, and shes been busy with other stuff. I dont see her often. I just wanted to have a good interaction with her.

She fucking drinks alcohol right infront of me to make me leave. While saying she loves me, as I walk out.

For context: my mother is an alcoholic. She has hit me, vented to me about problems, and had made me severely uncomfortable when shes drunk. I know its not that bad, but still. I get scared to leave my room at night because I know 9/10 shes drunk and I dont want to hear about her talking about my mental health issues, or her venting to me about her own fucking trauma. Its feels worse then it sounds. I dont know. I remember her whole "sober era" where she went to rehab, lasted a week, and called us demanding we pick her up. Where she would be erratic, constant mood changes. Her relapsing because she had a bad day, and spending the entire car ride going home just berating me over every little mistake I made in my life. Her "dry drunk" mood changes.

At least in the past she lied about being sober when she relapsed.

Idk. Im genuinely so fucking upset. I had a GOOD DAY, something that rarely happens to me. A genuinely good day. Just to get pulled over, and then have me mom weaponize her alcoholicism against me so I'll leave her alone.

AND IM A FUCKING ALCOHOLIC. I drink almost every day to every other day. So now I want to drink, but on the otherhand I dont want to be like her. I dont want to be all high and mighty and then proceed to get fucking sloshed myself. But I want to. Im so upset right now. Why would she do that to me? Fine. I get it. Just tell me you want some alone time. You dont have to drink right infront of me to make me leave. She knows what shes done to me while under the influence. Shes a fucking liar. At least I dont lie, pretend I'm sober, make a huge fucking deal about it. And then relapse and not having the shame to not drink infront of her child. Im not mad at her for relapsing, maybe I am a little but I understand its what happens, Im fucking pissed at her for this shit.

Im so done with my life.

Im so tired of being constantly winded despite the most basic activities its insane. My chest hurts. It just hurts.

Fuck nicotine

Im so tired of being constantly winded despite the most basic activities its insane. My chest hurts. It just hurts.

Fuck nicotine

Like I genuinely have chronic pain and cant feel certain places in my arm. It's normal to me now.

Yet I cant believe I have to live witj this for the rest of my life. Like what??? Im used to it, yet I know to most people they would be concerned

Words cannot describe the crushing sadness I feel

I need to srop i n3ed to give up nothing matters

Im only on shot 3, about to take shot 4, but I feel tipsy.

I get Im a smaller woman, but ive been drinking consistently for 2 years. Lol. Like 2 or 3 times a week, I did have a 3 or 4 month break in between but still!

Im 5'1 115 lbs. And I feel drunk over 3 shots. Not thay im complaining. Jusy weirded out, cuz J used to drink half of a 750 ml bottle of straight liquor and feel almost nothing. And I think ive been drinkinf MORE since then, and not less

At this point, its honestly animal neglect. And I dont know what to do. I recently turned 18, and I go to school full time.

My family is finally seriously trying. Weekly deep cleaning of the house. Vacuuming, cleaning bedsheets, washing our dogs with medicated flea shampoo, putting baking powder on the carpets. The only thing we dont have is the actual medication vets prescribe, as we dont have enough money for it. We have 6 dogs, and 1 cat.

The flea infestation is horrible. Its so bad I can pick fleas off my blanket right now. I take a shower, and a minimum of 2 or 3 fleas fall off of me. Its horrible. The dogs are in constant discomfort, scratching till they have literal bald spots. I literally cant sleep some fucking nights because I can feel the fleas jumping on me. My sister is allergic to most insects, and is getting horrible rashes and bites from them. And I cant imagine how our dogs feel.

Today, I was petting my dog, and I saw fucking SWARMS OF THEM. Not 4 or 5, but like genuinely 100+ fucking fleas.

I honestly want to rehome most of our dogs, but our family is too attached to them to do that. But overall it would be best for them. So we could buy enough medication for the dogs we have, and the other dogs can go to a home properly equipped for this.

Whenever I bring up how truly bad it is, Im shut down. Usually yelled at because "their trying" and its expensive. But it doesn't matter. When it gets to the point the family is suffering, the dogs are in fucking hell, and its a genuine hazard, it needs to be adressed.

I feel hopeless and restless. Because of course I dont want to rehome our animals, especially mine, but we have to think of their wellbeing. They dont understand why theyre in so much discomfort. They just know they are in it 24/7 with no release. I hate fleas. I hate them so much. And I honestly resent my family for getting SIX DOGS! Its excessive. And they refuse to listen to reason.

A butterfly. Hatched as a disgusting egg, forced to eat to grow, and cacooned into a tight wrap of silk. Its comfortable. Being underneath these tight blankets, flowing around me holding me tightly. But I need to grow. I grow inside. I grow and I grow. So much so the once comfortable caccoon is tight and uncomfortable.

But I am weak.

I fail to break through the harsh texture. I refuse to leave the warm comfort of it. I dont want to. I like the comfortable, dark, tight prison this caccoon I made. I created. Initially to grow. To be better. To become the stunning elegant butterfly I was born to be.

And the days blurr. Ive been in here for so long I am rotting. Decaying. No food, no water. I continue to grow, the caccoon being to small. Too tight. Suffocating. But I dont want to leave. I never want to leave. Im scared of the outside. Scared of what may happen, what could happen.

And as a result, I die. Alone. In the silk caccoon I considered my home. My safe place. And maybe I realized what was helping me eventually killed me. I die while everyone around me left the comfort, went into the unknown. They explored. They got better. But I died.

I dont regret it. I dont regret dying. Dying in comfort. Dying in my own silk cage. I regret not seeing it. Not exploring the world for the few blips of life I was. I was going to die anyway. Why was I so scared? To the point I stunted myself? I dreamed of the experiences of the butterfly. To grow, to fly, to *see*. But I didnt. I died. Alone. In my comfort. But now I will never know what I could have done. What I could of expierenced.

---

So when the day happens, and I die for real. I can't help but wonder what id miss out on. And for now, the fear of death, missed experiences, and rhe rare chance I'll get better. Ill continue to live. I am Suffocating. I am drowning. So tired. Too tired. But I want to try. I want to try, despite how comfortable it is to live in misery. How comfortable it is to want to die. How comfortable it is to be sad and negative all the time. I, at least, want to try. And even if I die in my guilded cage by my own hands one day, at least I can say I made an effort.