Thanks for the effort, Barbara, but I actually started a thread in the Health section—mostly because I couldn't find what I was looking for under Faith. I am a believer, and my faith plays a role in my daily life, I suppose—but I’m not really seeking that specific kind of help anymore. Still, thanks. 🙂
Alex Foster6, I realize a diagnosis isn't some kind of badge of shame—it really isn't—but I’m posting here under an alias... so I'd rather stay anonymous. Anyway, the Modus website claims their services are free, so I suppose I'll see if that holds true. I also need to look into that local psychiatric hospital for kids and teens... though, I assume they only offer therapy during standard business hours, and unfortunately, that's exactly when I'm working. I'm not exactly terrified of seeing a psychiatrist or a psychologist—not at all—though I was pretty shaken up during my first psych visit when I didn't just walk away with a diagnosis, but with a prescription too. Right then and there. I tried them for a bit, but after a while, I realized the effect was basically zero 🙄 Either the chemistry isn't what I need, or maybe it's just the wrong kind of chemistry. But I know I need exactly what you described—starting the process of restoring my emotions and my thoughts... Thanks 🙂
placidfox52 said:You have to make the time. Seriously. Find another therapist—someone who actually works around your schedule. But you have to go.
I know, I know... though at this point, it’s almost comical how there’s always some obstacle in my way. If it isn't a scheduling conflict, it's money—and if it isn't money, it's work—and if it isn't work, someone pops up with new information and everything just resets. 🙄
Now, dustybison23 reached out—hopefully he can track down some info regarding the philosophy program—and then Alex Foster6 showed up with this whole Modus thing. Honestly, I don't even know where to start anymore. 😢
Alex Foster6 said:vividmarlin5, if you're in Washington, D.C., and you feel too awkward asking your doctor for a referral, maybe try reaching out to the American Psychological Association—specifically their Modus center. Check this site:
Well, I already went to the doctor—had the exam and got my diagnosis (which I’m not sharing here, since this is my alter ego, after all 🙄)—but getting into therapy just isn't working with my schedule right now. I saw that Modus website, but it feels more like a counseling center... and I don't really have anyone to tell me if it's actually legit, or if it's just some place for kids with minor issues. Sure, I'm young, but my problems go way beyond what a typical young person should be dealing with. Honestly, these things have completely destroyed me. I just can't seem to shake them... I even end up making things worse by diving headfirst into the mess myself. 🙄 Has anyone actually been to Modus? Has anyone gone there? Does anyone have any actual info or advice about that center? Please... 😢
dustybison23 said:Let me know if there is any way I can help. I’m not entirely sure what the specific term is in philosophy circles—it’s hard to pin down—but getting an appointment shouldn't be too much of a hurdle. Besides, they’ll point you in the right direction once they assess the situation and suggest a course of treatment because, based on everything you’ve told me... you aren't crazy, and you don't need a psychiatrist. You just have some very solvable issues. What you really need is someone you can trust, a little self-belief, and patience—that’s basically it. Everything is fixable. And honestly, from what I hear, our mental health system here in the States is a total joke. They just bleed people dry, while the doctors working through insurance just sleep on the job and screw over their patients. It's pathetic. Truthfully, I have more faith in psychologists. I know several through my girlfriend and I can look into some options for you if you want. No big deal. By the way... regarding the music. If I had to guess, you probably associate certain sounds with terrible memories. That professor was a complete jerk. You didn't mention if he was from that one academy downtown, but it doesn't even matter. Please, try to enjoy the music; not every musician is a predator. Keep me posted on how you're doing. You seem like a decent person, you know? That's all for now!
I replied to your messages, but I'll post a bit here too. 🙂 As you said... they’ll refer me elsewhere, so I won't be seeing them directly—they’ll send me somewhere else (to a psychiatrist, though I already have a diagnosis 🙄 ), and they’ve already run me ragged to the point where I don't even know what to think anymore. I know the healthcare system is a disaster, but I haven't been able to fix this on my own so far, and I know it won't be that easy. And yes, that one instrument—not music in general—carries those awful memories, which explains why I have zero desire to play it. My motivation dies instantly; it might flicker for five minutes, and then... boom. Back to feeling completely down. I know not all musicians are predators, so what was that? I (and the rest of the kids from that school) were harassed, but I didn't lose my sense of purpose or my love for the craft. Musicians are still a significant part of my life—I mean actual artists, not someone like Shuputic or whatever 🙄 ). How am I doing? Just living in the hope that something will finally change. 🙂
Yeah, I read the posts—whenever there actually are any.
It’s been so quiet lately, it’s almost hard to believe someone actually posted something.
Thanks so much for the advice regarding the therapist. I hadn't even considered the whole thing about the liberal arts degree. I haven't started the sessions yet—mostly because my schedule was a mess, though now that things are settling down, I can finally afford it. As for music school, unfortunately, the memories are pretty grim—but even so, music is still my life, and I can't bring myself to regret the good parts (despite all the bad).
Thank you so much for this post; you have no idea how much it means to me.
I’m writing this because last night was one of those emotionally devastating evenings—not so much for me, but for my sister, who is also slowly falling apart at the seams. I’ve been pretty numb lately, so I cry less often, though the depression doesn't really subside. As children of alcoholics, we are emotionally scarred—full of silent screams and an intense craving for kind words or gestures that simply never arrive. It will take a lifetime for these wounds to heal, but we are still trapped in this environment, living day by day, just hoping that today isn't the final day before we somehow become "normal." And while we drift through life like this, finding any sense of purpose feels almost impossible. We can't exactly run away, because this is the only home we have. We need psychological help (which I am finally starting next week, and I hope it helps not just me, but all of us eventually) so we don't completely snap from living with a sick, addicted person who refuses to seek help—someone who can't even see their own problem. My father would sooner die than admit he’s an alcoholic or take any actual steps to fix it. Seriously. Mom is "blind"—she doesn't see the issue, she just closes her eyes and maintains this perfect illusion of a family for the outside world. She had us because, in her mind, abortion is a sin. She never once considered the kind of world she was bringing children into, or what kind of lives they would lead, what kind of father they would endure, or what kind of future they might even be able to build for themselves. Having one child is one thing, maybe even two, but having a third or fourth just because of religious convictions regarding abortion? I’m glad to be alive and functioning—however broken I may be—but my sister told Mom yesterday that she would have preferred to be aborted if she had known life would be like this. I still have no idea how to help everyone, honestly. For now, I haven't even figured out how to help myself; or rather, I haven't reached that stage yet. I'll start eventually and just hope for the best. I can't afford to falter anymore, because as someone on this forum once said, "everything comes back to haunt you." And I'll be the only one paying the price—with my health. Though, I suppose I'm already paying for it to some extent, but I don't want it to get any worse. Money is almost always tight at home, mostly because Dad spends nearly everything on himself—specifically, on booze. After the alcohol, the bills come first, and then food; questions directed toward his own children—like "Do you have what you need?" or "Do you have money for lunch?" or "Do you have boots for winter?" or "Is your coat warm enough?"—simply don't exist in his mental landscape. He never, ever asks.
My sister is (so far) the only person in the entire family to make it into college, but yesterday she was on campus from 7 a.m. until 9 p.m. And what did she eat that day? Nothing. She managed to scrounge together twenty cents here and there at school just to scrape together ninety cents for a chocolate milk. Meanwhile, the old man at home is buying Aspen. And two cartons of cigarettes every single day. It doesn't matter if her head is spinning from hunger; as long as there are cigarettes and alcohol available, he's fine. And when she finally worked up the courage to mention it—that she was literally begging for change—he just told her to move into a dorm. And Mom, being oblivious and "blind," keeps preaching about respecting your parents—in this case, our father. How is one supposed to respect someone who ruins your life on a daily basis? I know we need to get out of this environment, but unfortunately, we have nowhere to go right now. We are just trying to choose the lesser of two evils. She tries to be a good mother, tries to be gentle... but she "doesn't see." She completely forgets what she put us through and how she treated us back when we weren't even capable of standing up for ourselves.
This is just where I am right now. Obviously, I don't like it, and I know there are better ways to be. I was supposed to see a therapist this week, but even after I scheduled the appointment, I didn't go. I got scared and withdrew. I feel pathetic and empty; nothing brings me joy. Actually, I felt like I was starting to recover a few days ago, but yesterday brought such ugly things that I'm right back at square one. Or, as Betty Rivera14 says, "the skeletons are coming out." God, they are certainly coming out...
Lately—and this is hitting me hard again—it’s the sheer lack of empathy from people who actually know about my "situation." I try my best not to be a burden—really, I do—but to open up about the hardest thing in my life to someone I actually care about... someone I thought cared back... only to be misunderstood and judged? It just doesn't compute. Maybe my approach is flawed—I guess.
I mean, everyone drinks these days. I have a drink too—it's not like I'm making a mountain out of a molehill—but it eats at me. It eats at my soul that someone could, despite whatever feelings they have for me, fail to grasp HOW MUCH THIS HURTS. Just zero heart—no empathy, no attempt to understand the pain. It’s as if my feelings simply don't matter.
If they could just ask themselves one of these questions: "How is she doing today? How is things at home? Is her father giving her a hard time? What is he saying to her? How is she taking it? How much is it affecting her? Does the smell of alcohol bother her? Does the vacant look in his eyes and the foolishness bother her? Does it remind her of him? Does she need help? Does she even know how to ask for it?" And so much more...
I suppose this has become my little emotional corner... I'm glad I have a place to share this—even if it's painful and anonymous. Anonymous for now—I feel this urge to scream my actual name, but for now, nothing.
Thank you all SO much for the support. I'll head over to my primary care doctor and ask for a referral—it’s not like they’re going to bite my head off.
It isn't that I don't think they'll give me the referral—it's just that I'm still feeling this overwhelming fear and shame, since I've always been the type to keep everything bottled up. For me, it feels like a massive victory just to finally speak up about this after spending quite a while lurking on this forum—even if I am using a different handle. I honestly thought I had grown stronger—that my insecurities were behind me and nothing could shake my confidence anymore. Clearly, I was wrong. Someone entered my life and completely dismantled that illusion. I guess I'm back at square one. But I'm trying not to view this as a setback—instead, maybe it's a step forward. I'm glad this person showed up, really. At least I’ve finally stopped running and looked the problem right in the eye. It's something—anything—more than what I've done in the past. Life isn't just black and white, after all; I spent so much time lying to myself, thinking I was "tough" and that things could never get this bad again. Now I can actually deal with the root cause—being aware of the issue and slowly working through it. 🙂
Sandra Wilson38 said:Just head to your primary care physician—they'll give you a referral for a psychiatrist or maybe even a therapist right away. Once you have that paperwork, you can go wherever you want. People say the social workers at Microsoft are supposedly the best. Good luck!👍
As for my doctor—every single time I ask for a referral, I apparently have to recount my entire life story just to get her to sign off on it. I guess I’m never quite sure what to tell her when I'm asking for a psychiatrist or a therapist. Maybe she doesn't ask anything, or maybe she does... who knows! And don't even get me started on her nurse. She seems to think she needs to know every detail and stick her nose into every single file she touches. 😢
Anyway, Sandra Wilson38, thanks for the advice and the support. 🙂
Sandra Wilson38 said:The whole "hiding your username" thing should be the least of your worries, I suppose. Maybe if you worked on those biases against doctors first—once those fade, the anxiety might actually subside and your confidence might return. Forget the nickname!👍
Oh, you're just wonderful. You really had me laughing there... forget the nickname! 🙂
Betty Rivera14 said:Personally, it doesn't bother me at all that you're using a different handle—it’s not like I actually know who vividmarlin5 is... and honestly, even if what you're saying isn't strictly true, it wouldn't matter to me, provided it helps someone reflect on their own life while reading our occasional 🙂 discussions.
There was this one time where, after posting, I had to go outside for a bit—just to keep from succumbing to the urge to delete everything I wrote... but I knew I just HAD to get it out of my system. It’s incredibly difficult carrying a weight like that for years... far too much... and then you just sink even deeper every time life drops a new burden on you.
And why should anyone care if someone uses a pseudonym? I’m just happy I managed to vent this, even if it's through a screen like this. Besides, you're right—even a lie could be useful if it helps someone else along the way. 🙂
Alright ladies—it’s interesting how few men actually show up to discuss these things—anybody want to suggest a good psychologist? I'm looking for social therapy mainly, though maybe private practice could work too; I'll see.
I'm based in New York City, so if you know anyone truly "competent"—because I really have no desire to deal with secondary trauma caused by amateurs—please send recommendations my way.
Are there other types of therapies or workshops out there? I don't know... I'm completely out of the loop on this stuff.
Afterward, I fell in love. Sex was—naturally—an alien concept to me, and frankly, I was terrified. But I finally reached that point. And I love it.
Though, God knows how many times I’ve burst into tears during sex... it’s been intense. He didn't hate me for it, though—he loved me, held me, tried to comfort me. I just have no clue why it happens. It’s perhaps too much love for my heart to actually process. So, I cry. Just too many emotions—the kind I've always needed, yet always lacked. Still, I’m struggling. I end up creating issues around sex, which really should be one of life's greatest joys, shouldn't it? The real issue is relaxing. I can't. If only I could find more understanding and patience—maybe things would be easier. Right now, they aren't.
It all feels like it’s coming back—like I’m slowly opening up... remembering more things that surely defined who I am today.
A teacher from the music school I attended during elementary school. A predator. He was touching me almost every single lesson for nearly five years. And I actually got lucky, I guess. I finally managed to convince my mom at the end of elementary school that I didn't want to go to music school anymore. It was a stroke of luck that her sister was visiting us and said, "Why should she keep going if she hates it?" (I don't know how to ever thank her enough—if I ever get the chance).
During high school, I didn't have boyfriends at all—they were a foreign concept to me. They just seemed disgusting and warped. Back then, I probably would have preferred sleeping with a woman (though I didn't).
vividmarlin5 said:So, I’ve been scrolling through Lucian's thread about childhood trauma.
The level of support here—it’s just lovely, really. I don't quite get why I didn't read this sooner. I suppose I convinced myself I'd moved past everything—that it didn't sting quite as much anymore—and that I was finally moving forward, but somehow, I've taken a massive step backward. And now, it's all starting to resurface.
I also wanted to add that while reading Lucian's thread, I'm starting to feel a bit strange about the fact that I haven't posted this under my real username. It seems I'm nowhere near as resilient as Lucia. Lucia, you are truly incredible—just wonderful! If only I had even a fraction of your strength...
Well, things will settle eventually, I suppose. For now, though, this is all feeling incredibly heavy, and I know I'll be so relieved once I can finally shed these prejudices, these fears, this lack of confidence, and this whole "hiding behind a pseudonym" thing.
So, I’ve been skimming through Lucia's thread on "childhood trauma."
The level of support here—you all are truly wonderful. I honestly don't get why I didn't read this sooner. I suppose I convinced myself I had moved past everything I went through—that it didn't affect me anymore, that I was just moving forward—but somehow, I’ve taken a massive step backward. And now, it's all coming rushing back.
And as for how I spent New Year's Day? I stayed home this year, since everyone around me seemed to have coordinated some big plan, and frankly, the whole New Year's chaos just gets under my skin so much that I decided to just stay in and watch movies. What a mistake. I would have been better off going to a park and sleeping on a bench. Truly awful. When I got home from work, my dad was already heavily intoxicated—glassy-eyed and just drinking straight from his flask. I thought to myself, oh, this is going to be "fun." I retreated to my room, and he, of course—always when he's drunk, he just screams at everyone and everything; it's the only thing he knows how to do. He targets my mom the most, really, and he twists anything he notices into something negative just to pick a fight. Then my sister started arguing with him—she's the one who threatens him and throws wine around... it's terrible. And this is supposed to be New Year's Eve! As time passed, we all just retreated to our rooms and beds while he "went wild," blasting music until the early morning hours and bothering everyone. I went to bed around 11 PM and tossed and turned until, I don't know, God knows when. I stayed in bed on purpose—I didn't want to get up for the celebration. Why? Because I don't want to look at or listen to someone like that. It was revolting. I cried all night, and that was my "celebration." And if you think that's bad, you should see him when he's sober. He's a completely different person. Though, he never acts like my father—it's all just a formality to him—but he does try to act kind sometimes.
Angela Green70 said:People notice you more when you're spiraling than when you're actually smiling. I used to think being quiet—just retreating into myself—made me invisible. In reality, people were probably just looking away... because I was a mess. An aggressively unpleasant mess, I suppose. And maybe they wanted to help, but they had no clue how to approach me. It's hard to reach someone who’s built such a massive wall around themselves. All while screaming internally for just one kind, human word.
You've got a point there. Looking back at middle school—which was easily my absolute worst era—nobody wanted anything to do with me. My list of friends could be counted on one hand. Actually, I really only had one true friend back then, and she's still my person today.
A wall? Please. I don't have a wall; I have the Great Wall of China surrounding me. And yeah, I am screaming for some warmth from a decent human being. There. You said it.
Lily said:And one more thing—in my group, there’s a girl whose father and brother are both alcoholics, a woman whose dad struggles with it, and another whose husband is an alcoholic. It's all just devastating.
I realize how awful these situations are—and honestly, things won't change without professional help. I suppose I've been acting quite immaturely lately, and I really don't want to keep going down that path.