I was doing pretty well for a while. My coping skill was eating(more of a mechanism) and it was helping me a lot. Now, I can't even stomach anything. The closer the trial is getting, the more my depression is hitting me. It feels like I can't distract anymore. I can't even look at anything with a razor any more. I feel so sick. Some one please help me.

I am Bipolar 1 and a paranoid schizophrenic. I take Depakote, zyprexa, hydroxizene, citalopram and medforim. I have gained 50 pounds in two months. Because of this I have been taking around 15 laxatives a day. I haven't tried overdosing on medication since I was sixteen and I am thirty seven now. Here's the but... I don't think I want to die but it's all I can think about. The thrill of taking as much as I can and feeling as physically sick as possible but not going to go get my stomach pumped seems to be the plan. The medications I've been planning are all past scripts and current ones. I know this is simply crazy I have a good doctor but the phone weighs a thousand pounds this Saturday morning. Hospital is out. I just seem to want to suffer. If you were me and did call, what would you say and exactly what results would you want anyway?

Only read this post if you didn’t read my other one. This is a shorter version of it. Help me, please! I at least need some kind of comfort or advice, or someone to understand my problem! Ever since I was a baby, I’ve had these weird delusional obsessions. I only talked to myself in my imagination and never really had any contact with the outside world. I called it “non-exposure” and I never exposed anything. It always had to do with cartoons. Just cartoon characters- I was so obsessed with them, and they filled my brain for my entire life- I am not kidding. Every day, 24/7, I would try and picture them in my mind, either trying to picture these kids dressed up as their favorite ones, or just thinking about my favorite ones dating other characters. I was not only obsessed with them, but I was attracted to a lot of them as well. This went on from elementary school to middle school, to high school. I’m 16 years old in my junior year now. I couldn’t stop. It was the only thing that made me happy. I never told anyone about it because I never thought it would be a problem until now- I always thought of it as just a hobby that I liked to do. But now I know it was a waste of time. Now that I’m a junior, I’m supposed to be focusing on college and even more work. But because I lived inside my imagination for such a long time, I suffer consequences now. I’m not able to do the things I used to do. I can’t read, I can’t even focus on real life without zoning out. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t tell anybody- not my mom because she would be devastated, and not anyone else because they would just think I’m weird, and they would be upset, too. I can’t picture anything else in my mind besides these cartoons, and what I see on TV. I’ll never know what it’s like to be an actual person, living a normal human life. I can’t stare straight forward without zoning out, getting dizzy, or getting tired. I hate what I did to my life. I think school lessons are interesting, but they’re hard for me now! I try to focus on school but find it hard to do my work. I could have been a great person. But now I have no skills, and I can’t do anything. I don’t think I can function in this world. I don't think I'll be able to graduate high school, or function in college. I am not an attention whore, but I really want somebody to comment on this soon, because I am lonely and need at least some kind of company...

I'm not sure what I should do, I had a dream and my therapist was in my dream, by the way the dream was NOT sexual. I am wondering if I should tell him about my dream or not????

Hello, I'm a cutter...

Why do I cut? What turned me into a self hater who scars his body and often wants to die?

I'm a 44 year old man who has seen his world fall apart two years ago. I was seriously injured on the job to the point of full disability. I can no longer do the job I lived to do, which was Police work. Add to that the fact that I suffer horrific pain everyday due to my back injury. I have crushed a total of 9 discs in my upper, middle and lower back and have to use a cane to walk.

Not only do I have permanent nerve damage, but as a result I lost function of my bladder and need to urinate with a catheter and a leg bag. I have had several surgeries to include a two level cervical fusion, an interstim implant for my bladder and a Morphine drug pump implant. Despite these surgeries, the Morphine pump and oral pain meds I am still in a great deal of pain all day and night; awake and sleeping. I still have a few more surgeries I must endure in the next year. This physical pain alone is one reason why I cut myself.

Since I don't have any control of the constant pain related to my back injury I at least have control over the pain I endure when I cut myself. I don't scratch myself...when I cut I cut deep and I have scars over 70% of my body. I often cut out of anger or frustration, because I lost my passion for life when I lost my career as a Police Officer. It's extremely difficult to go from being physically able to chase bad guys, make arrests and help others to someone who can barely walk and is in constant pain.

Over the past two years I have gone from a mentally confident and competent person to a mental basket case. Now I must say that prior to my career ending injury I suffered from PTSD and bouts of depression related to my Police experiences while employed by NYPD during 9-11 and survivor's guilt. Also, growing up I would from time to time cut myself. Oh yeah and when I was 13 years old I slit my wrist and OD on medication in an attempt to end my life. It was really tough covering up the huge ass scar on my wrist, especially while applying for work as a Police Officer. I don't regret the scar, I regret the fact that I lived. Looking back I guess there have been many times where I was in harms way and could of, should have died, but didn't. This happened more often of course during my Ten years of Police work. Looking back now I can honestly say that I wanted to be a Police Officer so I could die. Had you asked me while I was still working as a Police Officer I would have said it was so I could help people and save lives.

Anyways, I now suffer from a whole host of mental disorders, such as Major Depressive Disorder, BiPolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, PTSD and a couple of other disorders that escape me at this time. I'm taking a handful of medication daily in the hopes of controlling my mental and physical pain.

It's not working, I can't sleep and the urges to cut keep getting stronger. I also envision me cutting my own throat with a knife. I can be sitting on the couch watching a TV show and out of no where I see it...I see the knife in my hand held to my throat. I wonder, is this how I am supposed to die? I always hoped it would be via lead poison ( aka a bullet). No matter, I keep cutting and my wife sees the cuts and scars and naturally freaks out. I'm putting her through hell and that just adds to my anxiety and frustration that often boils over and results in even more cutting! I wish I could post pictures so you can see my scars and know that this is for real. I'm living a nightmare and I'm ashamed of myself for being so weak. Two years ago I was a decent role model for other Officers and the community I lived to protect and serve. Now...now I am suicidal and spend most of my time at home, in pain and alone.

The urges are becoming too great and I'm fast losing any control. My cuts are becoming deeper and deeper. How can I cut out the ugly side of me when...

[ Continued ]