Trigger

I grew up in Nigeria where my parents we missionaries. Two teenagers/young men abused and tortured me and a further man abused me too. I was also physically abused and neglected by my parents who were very busy. I used to have to find my own food and look after my sister even when I was very young. I also had to babysit other kids on the compound I got so hungry that I used to pretend that my lego was food and I was cooking it. I think this might have contributed to my eating issues.

I started self harming when I was about 5. I accidently put fertiliser in my eye and it felt good tho bad and I kept doing it. I also started adding the contents of my chemistry set to my milk and drinking it.

We left there because we got attacked and our house set on fire with us in it. It was a mud house and smoke came up from below like an oven. We managed to get out but it was difficult to breath. I have bad asthma and my therapist thinks this may have something to do with that.

When we got back to the UK one year later my Dad died of melanoma when I was 8. I loved him very much and I held his hand after he had died to say goodbye. Some ppl think that is why I became a Dr tho I am not sure. I think I might have become a Dr because of my Grandpa

I went to boarding school a year later and hated it. I returned to self harming by taking large amounts of paracetamol to try and make myself sick so I did not have to go as you were not allowed to be sad. I dont know how I have a liver left. Except maybe because it made me sick I threw them up.

Because of my asthma I was put on oral steroids and I became Cushingnoid in appearence. So I became very hung up about my weight and stopped eating. This then turned into binge purging. I got followed by a teacher and accused and sent to the school Dr. They told me they were going to tell my Mum half an hour before my English GCSE.

Around this time my moods became unstable and I started acting out too with alcohol and smoking. I also had my first episode of being high where I put on a school concert and organised the whole thing and wanted to invite Princess Diana. I was around 16 at this point. No one noticed.

I carried on struggling with SH by hitting myself, binge purging and also having mood disturbance but I got through my A Levels and got into Med School. There I went off the rails with drugs, alcohol and mood disruption plus unprotected sex. I still managed to do my studiese somehow - I am lucky I remember things easily. I got into a relationship and the guy hit me and used to anally rape me. When we broke up I thought I could not live without him.

I started taking overdoses, and cutting myself and my ED got worse. I saw my GP who referred me to therapy and courtesy of one of the ODs I also ended up under a psych. He did not diagnose me with bipolar despite episodes of obvious mood disturbance and I carried on as I was.

I graduated and started work. I stole some drugs from a ward and overdosed and was found by someone who I knew was going to come to my room as I was sleeping with him. This had started when I was high and by this point I was getting a bit of a reputation.

I was put on the poisons unit I worked on and visited by the clinical director. He told me to go off work and I was referred to the GMC which is where that all started.

For the next few years my mood was up and down including overdosing on an airliner after being high and going to meet some adult missionary kids who had been abused in the States and crashing due to being triggered on the flight home. The airplane had to land and I wound up in an Icelandic hospital and subsequently loony bin.

The GMC were not pleased with this and my case was sent to a hearing. I was discharged but rereferred when I got done for drink driving whilst high and abusing drugs and alcohol.

I became and anaesthetist and ended up working with my ex who hit me and raped me. Between that and everything else I decided to end my life for proper this time. I injected myself with an anaesthetic and a drug to stop the heart but it did not work and by some twist of fate I was found.

I was admitted to hospital and have not been at work since. I am trying to heal now. I have been in hospital 4 times in the last 3 and a half years. I have a better therapist now and I am on drugs for BP1 which I have finally been diagnosed with. I really hope to get there tho I appreciate there is a lot to sort out.

Thank you for reading

Hope you are all well

Hugs

Cracked

reposting here for you......

When I read your blog it makes me feel sad too. that there are such awful people in the world and that such great people can be so badly affected. But like lonely-girl I feel relieved when I read the comments because it shows the good next to the bad. The good people that are here to support you.

Can you flip you mentality to view your blog as evidence of how strong you are. You have been through so much and yet you are amazing and continue to contribute to the well-being of others? And your scars too? Look at them and say I've felt like such crap that I cut myself and yet here I am ready for another day. That is strength.

I don't want you to think I am invalidating how you feel. I know how you feel. I'm just trying to ignite that strength I see in you.

Sam

Dear Sam

Thank you so much for all the kindness and understanding you have shown me. It is very much appreciated.

Hugs

Cracked

says my he. thanks

Hi Cracked,

hang in there! You are right, your liver should have been shot a long time ago and as an anaesthesiologist you would have the knowledge and drugs at hand to die - but you're still here. Someone/something's watching over you, kid.

Sending you lots of love,
butterflycaught