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The Story of One Lifetime.
How we got to this point.
Where we want to go from here: https://www.gofundme.com/f/ux5jsb ">https://www.gofundme.com/f/ux5jsb&...
How we got to this point.
Where we want to go from here: https://www.gofundme.com/f/ux5jsb ">https://www.gofundme.com/f/ux5jsb&...
My parents divorced when I was so young my memory fades. I can remember undecorated walls, bare flooring and watching Goosebumps on T.V. I remember my father buying my love with a puppy, MacDonald& #39;s and video games.
I remember not fitting into a new small-town school where everyone new each other except the outsider. I remember those video games and T.V. shows being my only friend. Until I was no longer alone.
I remember talking to my friends late at night, thinking I wasn& #39;t abnormal. They were often just unmoving, unshaken and quietly watching me as I slept. They often scared me, but I tried hard to be there for them. Around 13, the voices started.
I remember being bullied, I remember starting to fit in later on, with a few other people who found little in common with the rest of the crowd. I remember being suicidal as a tween. I remember how my father& #39;s house was always dirty, cloaked in a fog of cigarette smoke.
I remember how my mother& #39;s house was tidy, clean, but there were rules that changed depending on the situation. I was never a step ahead of them, always being accosted. My father& #39;s house had no rules, a complete juxtaposition. He wasn& #39;t there to enforce any.
I remember a sporting event around the time I was 15. I ended up falling from 5 feet high onto my face and my heels tapped me on the back of my head. I closed like a book, full scorpion. My back has been nothing but agony ever since. Walking is a pain, sitting is a pain.
Over the course of a few years the doctors found nothing substantial. Bones are fine, mild scoliosis. So clearly it& #39;s the muscles. The tendons. Very little is being done about it.
As I aged into teenage years, my mental condition worsened. I have involuntary lucid dreams. Always lucid, to the minimum degree of being aware I& #39;m asleep, to the maximum degree of being able to control what I& #39;m dreaming of.
But I was never able to control that voice that follows me, even in my dreams. Somewhere halfway through the night, it takes control. Sometimes it turns into a nightmare, sometimes it doesn& #39;t, but I can always sense when it& #39;s in control, there& #39;s always an indicative presence.
I wake up, the voice is gone for a while. Only a little while. Over the course of the day it grows stronger the more tired I get. If I get too tired, I start seeing things. Shadows in the corner of my eyes, glimpses of faces. If I get any wearier, it becomes less subtle.
I start seeing apparitions in dimly lit spaces. If I get even more sleep deprived, I become able to touch them, feel them as if they were really there. Most nights I have sleep paralysis before I finally fall asleep.
The voice isn& #39;t nice. I& #39;m demotivated, depressed. It& #39;s a little better with 40mg of fluoxetine a day. I& #39;ve had some therapy, they didn& #39;t know what was wrong with me, they were too hesitant to pin it to any one cause. I& #39;ve displayed traits of multiple disorders.
Tip of the ice berg, folks.
When I hear loud noises, see sudden bright flashing lights, like an ambulance siren or a child wailing, it triggers a fight or flight response. Usually an impulse to lash out. I& #39;m able to control it, but those moments give me goosebumps.
When I hear loud noises, see sudden bright flashing lights, like an ambulance siren or a child wailing, it triggers a fight or flight response. Usually an impulse to lash out. I& #39;m able to control it, but those moments give me goosebumps.
I remember when I was younger I was playing with some Babyborn and my mum made fun of me, and for some reason I blamed the doll and I wrecked it. It made me feel relief because I stopped being mocked. But as a result I get the same impulse around actual babies.
I stay away from kids as much as I can. I don& #39;t like & #39;em. They have no volume control and it fucks me up. The voice encourages violence, releases a stream of dopamine into my system whenever I do as it says. I recognise its demands to be morally reprehensible.
I don& #39;t associate with it anymore. I& #39;m not the voice, even when it makes me feel good when I allow it to lure me into visions of macabre scenarios. Sometimes I lay there thinking for hours, it gives me energy.
The voice never tells me to kill myself. I tell it that that& #39;s what I& #39;ll do if it gets too insistent. Sometimes I feel like I& #39;m not me anymore after I wake up. Sometimes I just feel like being an asshole, the day after I feel like I wanna be me.
That puppy my father got me, I loved him. He was my best friend on four feet. It was getting old and ill, though. My father got him put down without my knowledge, without giving me a chance to say goodbye. Not even a call to tell me that& #39;s what he was doing.
On mother& #39;s day, I felt ill. Didn& #39;t feel like eating much. My mother prepared a dinner and she wanted everyone to partake because it& #39;s her special day. I didn& #39;t want to eat. She told me to eat. I ate, I threw up, I got scolded and told to clean it up. I packed my bags instead.
I went to my father& #39;s house, stayed there over the rest of the summer holidays. I secretly booked a plane ticket to the UK, I left without them ever knowing. While I now regret my decision to do so without telling them, as I know how that can hurt since that& #39;s what he did to me,
I still felt that it was justified as I had nobody to talk to but my online girlfriend who I went to see. My father called me while I was at the airport, asked where I was. I said I was at the airport. He said to stop joking around and get home, because I have the house keys.
I asked him why he doesn& #39;t have any house keys to his own house. Apparently when I locked up behind me I took the last one. I said I was sorry and then got on my plane.
My girlfriend, now wife, is disabled. I accept less than minimum wage so I can save the NHS 19k a year. She takes care of me, too. I& #39;m too unmotivated and depressed to do anything. I breathe but I don& #39;t live. But she makes me feel. For better or worse, everything I do is for her.
Her family accepted me, I love them like my own. Me and my wife came out as polyamorous and they disowned us. I feel alone, I miss a family that was never mine more than a family that was. They broke my heart. All I have now is my wife, my dog, my cat and our hope for the future.
Our allocated social property is in disrepair, mouldy, bug infested, crime-ridden. This flat is actively killing us. I tried looking for a job, I got shot down by employers. I& #39;ve gone and finished my school, still got shot down by employers.
My ailments started catching up with me, my back is worse than ever. My head is worse still. I grow desperate, my pride is the only thing between me and allowing my friends to help me. Until one day I had to decide whether I care more about my pride or my wife& #39;s health.
I decided I care more about the latter. So I& #39;ve started asking for help. I started a gofundme. That& #39;s why I made this thread. So people know why I& #39;m asking for help. My pride and my integrity is gone, but if at the end of it I can secure my wife& #39;s future maybe it was worth it.
I just want to see her happy, above everything else. https://www.gofundme.com/f/ux5jsb ">https://www.gofundme.com/f/ux5jsb&...
