*Trigger* This is a long story but I will try to be as brief as possible. I am very new to forums and anything I say is without judgement of any form of disorder, as I am all to aware of the impact it has on all parties and how the sufferer is impacted. Please do not take any offence as I'm still trying to understand, accept and work with its far reaching concsecuences and would ask all posters to remain non-judgementa. Thank you.

My wife and I have been in a relationship for 16years, married for 4 and have 3 year old Daughter together.

Most of the revelations from the events of the past two months have made me realise that in hindsight my wonderful true love has suffered from more than the diagnosed general anxiety and depression that has been interwoven in our lives for all this time.

Two months ago my mother in-law lost her on/off 10 year battle with cancer. We were all left devastated, but my wife who has always been considered the most emotional member of the family showed little grief, despite being greatly consumed for the entire decade of this fight.

Two days after her passing, my wife had a memorial tattoo and immediately confessed she had fantasised over the artist and made sexual advances towards him. My wife has always despised adultery and we had talked openly about friends who had committed this most "despicable" of acts. My wife has also always been very timid around strangers, sexually unadventurous and incredibly attached to myself. I put this down to the trauma and suggested that some form of therapy for her grief, along with open discussion would help and that I would support her all the way.

The situation became worse on the day of her mothers funeral, as the following day she confessed she had been awake all night sending naked pictures of herself to men she had never met. She made in her own words " throw away " comments that she would be better off dead, how a massive hole was consuming her and how she was unable to love anyone or inflict her "issues" on me anymore.

Her family although unaware of the full facts all agreed she should see her GP immediately, who subsequently referred her directly to A&E. The Doctors fortunately could see the full picture and my wife's reluctance to open up, or even admit she had a problem. They talked to both her sister and I and after discussions at board level, generally agreed she suffered from a personality disorder and offered immediate therapy and support, this has sadly been refused and ignored by my wife.

During this period our daughter was also suffering from pneumonia and my wife was unable to fully cope with this and embarked on offering herself for NSA sex via the Internet, sleeping with 6 unknown men (at least) in a period of weeks, all of the encounters potentially dangerous given the unknown quantity of the individuals and the environments the acts were taking place.

My wife has always suffered from angry outbursts, issues of social acceptance, 'living in and blaming the past', fear of abandonment and an inabilty to focus on positive aspects of life. Its also important to teveak that she was beaten by her father as a child, along with her sister and mother and her fathers family also had a history of sexual abuse, although my wife claims she was never assaulted in this manner.

Whilst this has left me devastated and whilst an exact diagnosis is not possible without therapy and dialogue from my wife, I know the most caring and loving person I fell for all those years ago, now has some form of explanation as to why she feels like this, as do I for the roller coaster relationship we have experienced.

As a footnote, not only does my wife not accept their is a problem with her actions or health, she has also started drinking heavily and vilifies me to anybody that she is able to convince, normally those who have infrequent contact with her or myself and are unaware of the full picture . These individuals are now validating...

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From what I have been told, I was talking and walking by 9 months old. Perhaps it is an exaggeration, but I can attest to the ease I have experienced in school, with dealing with problems, and assessing the “right” behavior in situations.

I have had one imaginary friend, from what I can remember, since I was about two years old. I remember when he first knocked on the door, a back door with a mud room in my house, and I let him in. I would tease my Dad that he was my boy friend. He kept me wonderful company and was an enlightening, safe harbor. I remember another time when someone entered through this same door. I remember that I was handed a stuffed animal by this man, but I cannot recall any more.

When I was seven, I remember feeling sure that I could survive on my own, if only my parents would let me alone. In kindergarten, I could read chapter books and would forge my mother’s signature on the homework list each week. I remember wanting the independence from my mother to moderate my own life.

My favorite thing to do at that time was read. I had a children’s encyclopedia and learned about sexual reproduction in this fashion. I discovered an obsession with looking at Michael Angelo’s “David” sculpture. I would sit and look at it for different durations each day.

Between seven and nine, my parents split up (though, I had suspected it for over a year). At this time I began having very sexual, very vivid dreams. One dream I remember was of my self in a hotel room, seducing a much older, ugly man. I believe between six and seven I was sexually abused again, by the same close friend of my family that had been in my life much earlier, and that I had let into my home through the mud room door. I cannot remember it happening, but I have returned to a certain event when I remember I was alone with this person, and there are blank spots in my memory.

I started touching my self with my dolls or stuffed animals around this time, I don’t really understand why. I would “tell” my sister’s fortune by looking into my crystal ball. Around the same time I stopped feeling normal. When I saw myself in the mirror, I felt an intense, unnatural feeling. It was almost disgust. It increased when I had on feminine clothing. I still feel it, sometimes seemingly random and sometimes by noticeable triggers, to this day.

When I was nine, I realized that my father was not scary. I saw that he would raise his voice to intimidate me- and, I saw that it was just that- and that I was capable of it too. This led me to a strange relationship with aggression. I began to “dominate” my siblings, feel an anger that was confusing and overwhelming. I felt as if something in me was red fire hot, and I had no control over it, nor the ability to stop it, nor the knowledge of how it started. I felt like a victim while I victimized other people. And still, though less frequently and with more control to mask it, I have this sensation of being a puppet. At this time I also began trying to study witch craft and wanted to be a vampire. I would mediate and attempt to make spells.

By the time I was eleven, I was not only participating in on-line sex and wishing to be kissed by a boy at school, but I was finding attendance at school more difficult, as well as having increased bouts with anxiety and depression. This only worsened as I got older. And by fourteen, I was full blown suicidal. My parents attempted to get me help, but the doctors, therapists, teachers, and medication were so easily manipulated that no one could touch me.

I would get into these crazed, raging fits of frustration and aggression. I would yell, scream, shake, cry, weep, sob; I was frightening. I started “cutting” which was mostly scratching. I started messing around with older guys. I started lying and going out and trying to drink/party as much as possible. When my father would have a chance to sit and talk to me, he would try to hug me, but I would yell insults until he would give up. I remember ...

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Hi, this will be my first post on here and I really need some advice or help and I’m beyond desperate. My mother is a shoplifter, and I’m only a teenager and I’m the only one in the family that knows and I’m scared to go anywhere with her because I know she will steal items.

So basically since before I can remember, my Mom would steal things. Mainly it was groceries (she would get plastic reusable bags and bag everything up in an empty aisle and walk out looking like she payed) and I remember watching her do this when I was around 5 and not realizing it was stealing. I didn’t realize until i was around 7. She wouldn’t just steal groceries tho, she would steal perfume, lotion, makeup, shoes and other goods. This is where it gets a bit complicated, after doing this for years, she got caught around 2years ago and was put on house arrest, I am the only person who knows that she has ever shoplifted/ that she was on House Arrest. At the time, she told me she had a disorder and was going to seek treatment, but she never did. After she attempted a fake 2 minute apology for years of emotional distress, I sort of forgave her. I know it seems impossible but deep down inside, i wanted to believe that she just made a mistake and that everything was going to stop. And for a little bit, it did. I didn’t really see her take anything and I thought she was better, until she started again. One day we were at the store and I saw some stuff she stuffed into her purse and I couldn’t take it and ran out of the store into the car. She then came into the car after finishing shopping, and flipped out. She kept on pressing me to tell her what made we leave and sorta came off scary when she began listing off random reasons I ran out, (Did you see your crush? Did something happen on Instagram? Etc) then she got this overly confused (and sort of scary) exaggerated face and went, “is it because of ME?” I just kept on saying no to everything she said cause I didn’t know what else to say. Things have just gotten worst from there, one time I was in the store with her (cause she manipulated me to go with her I didn’t want to) and I was walking behind her and she started getting REALLY mad at me for no reason. She said “stop stalking me you weirdo” and “go find this random thing, NOW”. I just walked a few feet away and I kept my eye on her and she went into an empty aisle and shoved some stuff into her purse. When we were waking out the alarm thing went off and my heart sank but nothing happened, we just kept walking and no one realized. In the past months or so she has appeared with new makeup and luxury soap and lotion and all this crap, and she has come home with groceries in reusable bags, meaning she stole it. Recently she noticed I was getting extremely distant from her (and I think rightfully so),and we had “a talk”. after prying for ever, I told her it was because of her taking stuff and she took a FIRM position that she hasn’t taken anything since she was on House Arrest and that she only stole stuff in the first place because she was “desperate” and didn’t have money, however that’s a straight lie. We aren’t by any means super well off, but when she started stealing my Dad had a great job and we were going on vacations to Disneyland, Las Vegas and California. Not to mention my grandparents are relatively well off and would help us out if we really were that “desperate”. Anyways, she started pathetically crying SWEARING she hadn’t done anything, but I know for a fact she has. That night I went to a friends house and she sent me an angry text saying I was going to start showing her respect “and stop treating her like a thief” BUT SHE IS ONE. Now, we are in an awkward position, and it’s extremely complicated because she’s my mom and I want to love her and sometimes we get along sort of (it sounds crazy I know) but I’m starting to come to a breaking point. Thank you so much if you’ve read all of this.
I’m currently crying while typing this, it probably ...

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I have a poo phobia ! Help?
It's been going on for months now nearly a year, everytime I go out I feel like I'm going to poo my pants, I start panicking and just go straight home! But once I'm home I'm fine and don't need the toilet, also when I'm out my belly starts to hurt like I'm going to have diarrhoea but I don't. It's ruining my life! I never go out because of this! I don't like to travel for long or stay out long incase I do poo my pants help!

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.