As the title implies, yeah I feel pretty guilty about my emotional bursts. I’ve always been depressed and have intense bouts of suicidal tendencies throughout my life. Despite this, I was able to keep a close knit friend group for over ten years. Misery loves company and we all were extremely depressed and, at times, suicidal. Staying up overnight to calm down a friend who had severe ptsd moments where she regressed back to her past. God I hope she’s doing well. Her deciding to leave the friend group about 4 years ago took a huge toll on all of us. But we moved on.. well sort of. What I’m going to explain isn’t about her leaving, but it’s a precursor to the later events (meaning earlier this year). 

I don’t do well with keeping friends and the friends I do keep are people I can trust and be intensely loyal to. I now know it’s what’s considered “codependent relationships” and as “close” as we feel and as “good” as it gets, it is also extremely damaging. Imagine your life being totally dictated by the thoughts and opinions of another. Almost like god himself cast judgement on your soul and if you do wrong you’ll be cursed to damnation. And if you do good, then good job. Be blessed by thy light. Of course that’s really dramatic, but for me, it was truth. It was my world. Everyone could see it wasn’t right, but of course none of us could. 
Until this year that is. 

We’ve all grown into some man baby type adults. Hiding from confrontation and trying to be people pleasers to the max. I’m no exception. 
So let me start this and stop just mindlessly typing. Anyone who’s read this far please note that this is just some hardship and history of my life. I’m not necessarily looking for advice. If anything, I hope that this resonates with someone and makes them feel like they aren’t battling alone. I have no advice though and this won’t make you feel any better. 

So as mentioned before, I had close friendships for ten plus years. We lost one friend which tore us apart, but we healed as much as we could. The rest of us, the three amigos, were left. We had the head of the group which always acted like someone who understood and tried to fix the problems in the friend group. Whether through reason or plain guilt. We’ll call her Onion. The next friend is a soft spoken person that Onion really grew fond of and started fighting battles for. We’ll call him Anders. And the last one is a dramatic girl who never really fit in the group, but clung to onion obsessively. She’ll be called Archer. Yes I know these names are random, but they are in some relation to something they like or have referred to themselves as - albeit shortened names. 

I always had issues with intimacy and keeping friendships. Or relationships in that matter. A lot of childhood trauma yadda yadda. Onion was the first friend I made while transferring schools and I made a commitment to really try solidifying this friendship. I was tired of feeling empty and lonely and we had a crap ton in common. Plus our humor was definitely on point with each other. Always has. Anders hmm on the other hand, we joked a lot and understood each other, but also could grow irritated and shocked with each others actions. Don’t get me started on Archer. I’ve never had a good connection with her despite trying and being friends for a long time. Basically we were intensely close no matter what. We’d have each others backs despite all odds. Silly and the next statement won’t shock anyone, but I was wrong. 

After leaving my moms place in Arizona due to her abusive husband (who you can look up as the “Woman escapes scottsdales sex ‘dungeon”), I came back home and started two jobs. Things were going well. I felt powerful for once. Then things started slipping. I became super depressed and suicidal. My friends and I thought it best if I got my own place (I was staying with family at the time). And another friend, Archer, also wanted an apartment. I decided to do it. I mean people get apartments with strangers right? And we’ve known each other for years? Oof big mistake. I felt EXTREMELY uncomfortable with her. My mental illness started to flare because well... I have a problem getting close to people. And this was as close as two people can get. Living together. I started panicking. Feeling guilty and shit. Throwing up from stress. Stopped eating. Stopped sleeping. My coworkers were telling me to get out of my apartment. It wasn’t even a week. And on top of that, I paid for everything. She was still going to school a few hours away and she was scared I was going to try killing myself if I didn’t leave my family house. I thought that was caring of her to think of... until what happened next.

I broke down. Seriously BROKE DOWN. Onion came in to my room to see what was going on. But instead of comforting, she told me to knock it off. Stop being dramatic and to ignore my intense anxiety. Which threw me completely off. She’s known me for so many years. I’ve told her everything about me. (I know now to never do that lol). They basically shamed and guilted me for the things I was already beating myself up over. Getting an apartment with someone I wasn’t comfortable with. Using someone to get it. Making decisions without communicating with my roommate. Which is completely my wrong, except my mind wasn’t my own at the time. My anxiety escalated and all I could think of was “get her out of here!” and then “get rid of the apartment!” I did confront her, my roommate, about me wanting to end the lease. She flipped (as of no surprise) and my madness spiraled. My friend group ostracized me and avoided me. 

I don’t blame them. What I did was incredibly bad.

That happened in January. And since then I haven’t been stable. I’ve been on different medications. Had severe reactions. Been in a psych ward. Been told a great many hurtful things by my family. Continued to be avoided as I also avoided people. I’m triggered by everything now. I am in a constant state of fear and anxiety. Lonely and back to where I started ten years ago. Except now I have to hold down my full time job until I move to California to be with my mom and sisters. I should be excited about it, but I just feel even more nervous. Staying in this town with nobody hurts greatly, but the thought of hurting more people drives me insane. My anxiety caused me to lose everything and it makes most nights unbearable. I wish I had a gun. I’ve been labeled as toxic and I feel like a demon. God I’m a villain.
What’s worse is that no therapist or psychiatrist seems to know what to do with me. “send her back to the ward” is what I hear IF I show my meltdowns openly again.