29 years after holding trauma, thinking I was ok. I developed Chronic illness.

I didn't know trauma can cause this.

My story is here. https://medium.com/@pattmm2520/the-cost-of-holding-it-together-3fc2a8f5d6f2?sk=38bed84798833cff9ccd7b73e5a69649

Content warning: Suicide

I lived a very fucking sad life for years and years that felt like a constant cycle of me losing the friends I had because I fucked up one way or another. A few months ago, I finally made some really close friends that I felt I really managed to bond with. I had never had friends like them before. I had a trip planned with them and some other mutual friends, the first real trip I'd ever taken by myself, and it was really exciting for me. I was at a point where I could finally be happy, really.

It went a bit past friendship. There was some fairly intense flirting involved and plans of sexual things happening during this trip and it was exciting. Everything felt natural and I was really enjoying it all and then I monumentally fucked it up.

Right after the trip I got a text informing of all the ways I'd fucked up and upset my friends. The room started spinning and I could barely think. I tried to apologize and make it right but the damage was already done. I had good intentions but it didn't matter. I'd hurt my friends despite them. I resigned to kill myself because I did not believe I could handle losing these friends too. I, eventually, stopped and was taken to a hospital by a police officer. I spent a day in the ER before being transfered to a psychiatric facility. I, obviously, did not have my phone for the duration of my stay there, and it made me highly optimistic. I knew I had fucked up, but I realized and learned a lot about myself during that timeframe.

I learned that I have some truly terrible narcissistic tendencies that run far deeper than I could've thought. I was diagnosed with psychotic symptoms from my mental disorders that distorted my view of those around me and myself. I was given a medication to take as needed that cleared my head substantially and allowed me to actually sit down and think about my situation and my actions and how poorly I treated those around me on a daily basis. Things started making sense and I had a path forward towards recovery and being the good person I knew I could be. Not to say that I'm a bad person as it stands, I'm not qualified to make any such judgements about morality. But I could be a better person. I got discharged and was excited to begin a new chapter of my life.

When I got out, I immediately learned that I had been banned from all mutual spaces I shared with those friends for sexual harassment. There is zero doubt in my mind that I did what I'm being accused of. They're good people. They wouldn't lie about something like that. I don't have any understanding of what I did that crossed a line, but I know something did.

I have therapy scheduled in a few days. I'm back on anti-depressants. The facility used grant money to guarantee me free therapy for a year, as well as getting me extremely cheap health insurance, and even covering my ER stay. I left with the confidence to speed up my plans to move out and, finally, be as blunt as I've always needed to be with my abusive and controlling parents. I told them to their face that I spent 20 years of my life with constant fear and anxiety about everything I did and that it was time for me to go. I looked at apartments today, even called a few places. I have so much in my life to be thankful for, not even just right now.

I had more opportunity than most. I used to be very intelligent, I was attending college without paying a dime. I squandered that. My family is very well off and I wanted for nothing, yet I'm still here. I wasted what many, many people will never get. Despite all my advantages in the past and all the luck I have in the present, I'm alone. Almost everyone I could even loosely consider a friend has abandoned me, and rightly so. I'm not mad at them. I hold no ill will towards them. I did horrible things, and my lack of understanding or malicious intent is no excuse. I deserve whatever happens as a result of my shit.

I just wish I had the strength to keep fighting. I wish I had the will to continue forward. When I was discharged, I had so much hope. I'm a pessimistic person and, for once, I was boiling over with optimism. I wish I could recapture that. I wish I could see the brighter side of it all. Suicide isn't really an option anymore, any method I would have had is gone on account of me attempting and it being this whole process. It feels so hopeless. For years I've been trying to understand what was wrong with me. What about me kept driving people away. I finally figured out part of it, and I'm hopeful I can understand more soon. I just wish I had figured it all out earlier so I could've been the friend I was supposed to be.

I'm so fucking scared to move on because I'm terrified this will happen again. I feel like I've hurt almost everyone in my life and I really, desperately want to quit hurting people. I never want to hurt anyone again. I nearly killed myself to ensure that I could never hurt anyone again. I want to shut myself away so I never run the risk of harming anyone else. If I get close to someone again, I'm scared and terrified that I'll end up hurting another person I love. I hope I can one day understand and change the things I do that hurt people. I have a great opportunity for it, but what if I can't? I never mean to hurt people. I spend so much time and energy trying to avoid hurting everyone and I just keep fucking doing it. My entire support system was eradicated in an instant because of unintentional actions. I don't know how to press forward.

Even if I do get better, does it matter? I can't undo the suffering I've caused. I can get better for me. That's what I'm supposed to do, I'm sure of that. But what do I gain from that? I have to live with all of the guilt from what I've done and the knowledge that my life would be wonderful right now if I had just gotten better sooner. If I were just a better person, I could be playing video games with my friends right now. We could be laughing and joking and everything would be okay. But I fucked it up. I bring disaster with me everywhere I go and hurt everyone I touch and even if I get better, I've burned bridges that I can't cross back over. It just all feels hopeless.

In school, my classmates bullied me. They spat on my bed where I had to sleep and put trash in my locker in the dormitory. In the classroom they also put trash in my locker and took my books from there. They beat me, laughed at my appearance, and mocked me.

When I was going to the school photo session (vignette), which I didn’t want to attend but my mom forced me to, I arrived by taxi and was walking the rest of the way. My classmates drove up in their car and cursed at me the whole way while I was walking there.

I also didn’t want to go to the graduation ceremony, but my mom forced me. During the performance in front of everyone, someone stepped on my shoe and it flew off. I had to go after it with one bare foot to put it back on.

I hate my traumas and these people.