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Losing yourself: the death of ones ego..

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I'd say it all started 5, maybe 6 years ago.. I realized things were coming to a dead end, I realized I didn't have many things going on. I knew I've had tendencies to be childish and little for a long, long time. I ignored 'em mostly, I didn't want it to be something I took part in, even if it was constantly on my mind for long periods of time..

For a period, I began having a brief what-if moments about death, suicide, my future, and things like that. Nothing I thought to hard on. It was mild, fleeting and simple enough to dismiss or deal with. Boy.. if I'd known where it was all going... This is what I mark as when my depression first began. Prior to this, and even during, I was okay. But it quickly became my nightmare.

Growing up I never had much, my family wasn't very wealthy or anything, but we weren't struggling either. I've always been the baby, never taught or expected to grow up. Other people still cook, clean, do all the work, order for me when we go out, things like that.. I feel as if it's really exacerbated my mindset of just not having learned or coped well, and having a preference toward never having to do so because I don't really want to grow up.. I found someone I thought was my soulmate. For months we talked, got along and shared interests and I felt like I'd finally met someone I really liked. My life was looking up. I was happy and excited for the future.. Well, bleh.. it didn't work out as such.

I ended up in an abusive relationship with someone that, for 3 years, led me on constantly. Taking and never giving back. Abusing at every opportunity, mistreating me and making my anxieties and fears (that I was open about.. was that a mistake?) even worse. It eventually ended in a very explosive manner at the bottom end of a 3 month or more depression spell that all started because I was made to feel so useless and unattractive, or hopeless without them. Even today through the veil and fog of's not any easier when I'm forced to remember.

I tried to take my life. I was basically laughed at and asked to prove it. I was thought so little of on that day.. I barely made it home from that emergency room. If not for my parents.. I wouldn't be writing any of this. Imagine being at a point where you're certain no one wants or needs you anymore. You survive, only for the first thing to happen.. a reaffirmation of those feelings.

I got home, I found my pacifier I'd kept away for ages and stuck it in. I slept for over 2 days, only waking up if I absolutely had to. During this period, dreams, realizations, and deep internal conflict were happening all at once. I'm not sure if it was the medication or what, but I feel like a big part of me died on that day, regardless of if I lived or not. I'm not really me anymore..

I started medication, Zoloft to be exact. For the first weeks of it, I thought it was over. I'd lost myself completely. I didn't recognize anyone speaking to me, I didn't speak back, my appetite went, I didn't do anything but lay there. I, for all intents and purposes, had already died. My parents were worried sick. I was asked at least 3 more times if I needed to go back to the emergency room. I just laid there lifeless.

Foolishly, I tried to talk it out with my abuser. I tried to explain. I was only ridiculed and treated further like dirt. I explained that I was experiencing really bad mental breakdowns, dis-associative behavior, and my depression was worsening by the hour. I was ignored. I watched as I was left behind. I watched this person begin their life all over with someone else before my very eyes. I watched my replacement's arrival and welcome party. After being told time and time again post-abuse that I was an irreplaceable key. I bought into that every single time.. I kept coming back for more.. Someone else had already been lined up..potentially there all along without my knowing. I'll never know now. I don't want to, for that matter.. I watched my friends go off. I watched as they all festered distaste for me because I wasn't the epitome of mental perfection. I watched a portion of my life change and die right before my eyes over the course of several weeks, and it plays back constantly at points. It's maddening and the number one reason I'm still struggling. My doctor says it's post-traumatic stress, but of course as mentioned I'm perfectly okay and there's nothing really wrong. Whatever helps you sleep at night, right?

At some point, and for the first time, I'd regressed. I wasn't an adult anymore. My mind didn't function anymore. I was simply gone, Intoxicated with being carefree for the first time in a long time, I realized I wanted this to be a part of my life; something I'd hidden away for as long as I've been on this earth, offered me complete solace and I needed it. I embraced it. For the first time, I started feeling like me again. I'd reconnected with myself. I was re-writing my entire personality. I was a written page, desperately in need of an edit.. I've achieved some of that. But I don't think I'll *ever* be whole again. And that's okay. That's been the hardest part. Realizing that everything, and every individual is ever changing, and I'm not exempt of that. To expect that I'll always be the same person is foolish. I have to take my experiences and use them to better myself and be a big part of someone's life instead of someone that was tossed in the garbage bin and hasn't been able to get out. Even if all I've done is edit one paragraph of a massive story, it's enough to invoke change and meaningful thought again. That's more than I've been afforded for as long as I've been going through this.

I still struggle. I still have very bad days, I still have my moments where stockholm takes over and I feel like I'm losing my mind. It's times like those where I simply want to go back. I try my best to welcome being little now, versus when I first posted here it was an anxious topic and I was unsure if my mental health had simply further declined. I'm still unable to re-visit certain places, or partake in certain activities. Getting further help has even been difficult because I was made out to be a liar and told I was never diagnosed, "never even went probably." It made me feel undeserving. It made me feel like it was all me, all in my head. That I was just sick. I was the problem. .. I still feel like that from time to time. It's very difficult. Even knowing absolutely none of that is true.. I stare at these medicine bottles with hope, and resentment. I don't think I'd have gotten this far down the hole if I could've just done better.. The what-ifs attack relentlessly! As the days go on and I drift further out into my consciousness, I feel more and more disconnected with everything that's happened and the "me that experienced it." It's a slow, painful death of an ego created over the course of twenty-seven painstakingly long years that you sit through as you redesign and rewrite your chapters.

Thanks to some of the people here at ADISC, I am doing better with my coping process and some of my fears or worries about being little, or having this happen as a way to cope, is perfectly okay and normal. It's a big load off to have that support and confirmation.. Thanks to everyone that's helped me out in my short time, be it by offering advice or simply talking with me. It means the world.

To anyone struggling with depression, it really does feel hopeless, doesn't it? I can't promise you hope. I can't promise you it's simply going to get better with medication and time. It helps, but it's not a cure all. I can promise that if you try hard enough, you can make it out of it enough to restructure yourself and focus on one thing at a time. It's what I've had to do. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I'm still not done, and I potentially never will be. Just..try not to give up, okay?

With biiiig hugs,

Updated 09-Feb-2017 at 16:29 by gigglebutt



  1. Starrunner's Avatar
    I'm glad you're doing better. Dealing with depression is a long journey. I've suffered from it throughout my life. We live in a society that is still learning about it, but sometimes there's a stigma attached to it. When we're sick we see a doctor, we get our flu shots, we take our pets to the vet, but when we're suffering from depression, we're brought up to believe that we should just suck it up and tough it out. No one says that to someone with a disability or a terminal illness. And yes, medication may have some side effects, but so do antibiotics, and we would take those if we had an infection.

    The fact that you have survived this relationship is inspiring and you have reason to be proud, even if it just feels rough right now. Surround yourself with the people who care and understand, continue with the therapy, and talk it out with whatever support is available (remember the YM-YWCA support group I sent previously). And if it does get tough, always remember there are helplines available to listen as well.

    It takes time to get over abuse. It's not easy to get over all the damage he has inflicted on you, but you need to remember that abusers tend to prey on good, caring people, so it speaks highly of your character and places the blame where it belongs; on him.

    My best to you in the journey ahead.

    Here's something inspiring:
  2. Angellothefox's Avatar
    Sorry that you had a abusive relationship. I do not think that they should have abused you after you said you had a mental illness because it could have been anything. You could have flipped out and abused them for all they know!
    They is only so many things a person can take before he flips out and totally go's nuts!

    It really discusts me that people think your lying. How about the brusies on your eyes is that proof enough! Or do they want a broken leg at will make them see "Oh yes you are speaking the truth!"

    It just really gets to me when people say your fibbing when your not. The help is very difficult to get out their. I do not know about America but here in England it is hard to get help... For anything really. All it is is care in the community. YEAH My community will take good care of me in the ruined down council estate (Sarcasm) I like your blog it was a bit of a read but it was good. It just go's too show that been a adult it more difficult then been a baby or a little.
  3. AdorableRabbit's Avatar
    I'm happy you shared your story. It must have been hard to write down - I hope it helped, and I guess I'm super happy because it seems like it's a good sign.

    My doctor says it's post-traumatic stress, but of course as mentioned I'm perfectly okay and there's nothing really wrong. Whatever helps you sleep at night, right?
    This though.... *fume* *worry*
    Just because it's inside, or you're not in immediate physical risk doesn't mean it's not real! PTSD, depression, these things *are* something really wrong. It's not just OK to deal with them, or need help dealing with them... you kinda *have* to treat them seriously. Sounds like you're getting help, and you've embraced your little side to also help... just don't ignore or diminish what's real in your situation, it will just make you beat yourself up or let it fester.

    Take care of yourself! HUUUUGS!!!
  4. gigglebutt's Avatar
    Thanks everyone for the comments. If anyone read and took something from this, then I'm more than happy!! As for help in England vs. the Americas, I don't think it's much different. I had a multi-month struggle just to get an appointment, which I was also abused for and told "I wasn't even trying".. Lord help me the memories are a deluge.

    I did end up contacting local support groups and I have included them into my therapy regimens.. And that's really all thanks to you Star, I feel like I owe you more than I could repay, even if we barely know each other and have only just met.. I have a big deal of respect for the support you've given me. I'll never forget it!

    I'm trying my best to take care of myself, there are days I feel so worn and unwanted that I just end up coming here and posting the things on my mind, I hope not very many people will think ill of me for these things that I talk about.. Not everyone likes to read these things, and that's perfectly understandable.

    Love and hugs, and pacifiers... gotta have those. I'm around if anyone ever wants to chat or hang about. I'm not a total dull log.. I think? :> - the Adult Baby / Diaper Lover / Incontinence Support Community. is designed to be viewed in Firefox, with a resolution of at least 1280 x 1024.