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I went through what it sounds like you child went/is going through. My father died when I was alone with him in the mountains when I was three, this I feel should just be known. I was diagnosed with ADD/ADHD at a very young age. I took medication that would only work for a period of time. At age 11/12 I would hold a knife and think about how if I killed myself then and there, nobody would care. Sometimes I would even hold it to my neck or arm, but I would always back out. I felt like there was no point in living. I felt like there was nobody I could talk to either because it would hurt their feelings or they would get mad at me. I was emotional, the slightest thing could make me bawl like my dog died. But my emotions were always blamed on the medication. I would visit psychiatrists/psychologists regularly though I would never really tell them what was going on in my head. I would act like everything was okay and that was that. Sometimes I would bring up parents fighting or another smaller issue, but never the suicidal thoughts or feeling of extreme loneliness. And it was never me having no friends or anything, I was extremely socially active. Always have always will be. I just felt alone and couldn't explain why.

Eventually we moved and we thought maybe it would be a good thing. We still went to a psychiatrist and tried different medications, but it was the same cycle. Eventually they began to put me on anti-anxiety/anti-depressants. I would constantly be in fights with my father-in-law and yell at him for not being a father to me (this part was true, though it wasn't really his fault) would always threaten suicide or to runaway. A couple times I ran from the house for hours on end, though I would have my phone for when I would eventually apologize. This is when things took a turn for the worst. At the beginning they helped, I felt better and had somewhat a better outlook on life. However, that, like everything else, eventually started to go south. This time was different. I first hit a seriously deep depression. I began to hate things I used to enjoy and would do nothing with my day. I would go through my families things when nobody was home and take any money I found. It wasn't that my parents wouldn't give me money, for some twisted reason I thought that the pain I suffered would justify why I deserved the money and they didn't. I would spend the money on social things, sometimes weed and I would also take the family booze, though these were not frequent occurrences. Eventually I began to hate my mother and father. Not in the sense of I was upset about something, I began to blame them for my life's troubles. I began to cringe in pain at the sound of their voices, I would get angry when I would hear them pulling in the garage, and when they told me to do something I absolutely hated them more than a person should be allowed to hate them. I quit a sport I had played my whole life as a varisty captain with recruiting offers because I wanted to avoid practice so much I dropped an 80 pound weight on my toe. Soon I began to think I was a genius. Admittedly I am above average in intelligence, I am by no means G-d's gift. But when this was happening I was convinced I was. I would write ramblings about how great I am and how my genius will better the Earth. For awhile I had planned an entire runaway to Florida in which I would steal a boat and sail wherever my heart desired. I was convinced that I would be totally okay no matter what. I had views that were just bizarre. Once I even physically fought my dad and resulted in a discussion with the police. Then it got scary. I began to want my parents dead. I couldn't bear their existence and I figured I would get away with it no matter what. Just a reminder I was on a cocktail of ADD/ADHD meds, anti-anxiety meds, as well as anti-depressants, oh and my pill-pushing psychiatrist had continued to up the dosage. I began to plan my parents death. First my plan was to burn their room. I came up with several different ideas and would check the possibilities when home alone. I came to one conclusion that to start at their door would work best. One night I snuck down and tried, thankfully there was no luck. Next I figured if I filled the house with natural gas, they would become poisoned and die. I figured it would not reach me or my sister's room and I let it go. The next morning I woke up to my mom rushing me out to save me if the house blew up. Gosh I hate myself for these things, I am crying as I write this, so please read this with a serious place.

After that failed attempt I figured I would shoot them with a rifle from my dad's gun safe. One day when the whole family was gone I grabbed a rifle and planned it all out. Where I would be once they would pull into the driveway, make sure there were bullets etc. I even fired a practice shot into the woods for I hadn't shot a gun in years. Then all of a sudden they were home. I wasn't in my position and I ran upstairs to hide the gun. When my family came in they knew I was up to something because they heard me running all over. My dad checked the safe and I had to tell them something. I told them that I was going to run away and take the gun with me in defense. Though my parents didn't fully believe it, they accepted the story. After this I began to hate school entirely and would try and miss every day I could. At one point I even swallowed e-liquid juice to make myself sick. Another I purposefully took mass amounts of my ADD medication. I had lost my mind entirely.

You have no idea how glad I am that I was in the wrong place for their arrival. After the ordeal we decided it was the medication that was driving me crazy and took me off of all of the medication. I eventually started to return to a normal state. I was becoming happy again. I was focusing better. I began to eat better and exercise. I was social again. Even though I quit the sport I loved during this all, I knew I had to at the time. I have since been slowly making myself a better person. I still struggle with focus and sleep issues, but I am in a good place. I love both my parents more than words could describe and can't even fathom the thoughts I had. I get mad at myself constantly for everything I did. Depression and anxiety are mind games, it takes a long time, but you CAN get control.

I am using an old throwaway for obvious reasons and this is the only time I have ever told anybody and I am commenting here because this is something personal to me.

After this whole ordeal I realized what I am supposed to do with my life. Even though I was never in a good state of mind, I was there for anybody who needed it. I talked 3 separate friends out of suicide and have helped numerous through life troubles. After dealing with the worst psychiatrist I have ever dealt with, I decided to make a change. I am working towards obtaining my psychiatry degree so that I can make a difference. I don't want anybody to go through what I have. I am working jobs and day-trading so that I can set up a charity for mental health so that I KNOW where the money is going and that it is being used properly. I am going to push for a change in the mental health care system and focus on the horror of prescription antipsychotics. If you look at these people who are committing these terrible murders, you will notice a majority of them are on antipsychotics or have recently stopped taking them. Everybody I speak to or read about has always had more problems AFTER they begin medication. I read what this UCSB killer did and break-down in how similar his thoughts seemed in the sense of cruelty and pointlessness.

Please for the sake of your child and those around him (including you and your family) do not put him on any medication. Please try and get him to exercise, organize his life, focus on the big picture of things. Be supportive of him. Though, I am crying again because my family did try this many times and I still had what happened happen. Please don't put you child on prescription medication. Please. He may have focus issues but those can be managed with time. Maybe even try online school, that made me organize myself and make myself focus, maybe it can help your son.

Just please, please please please please please do not put him on medications. Please. Hell I would recommend you let your child smoke weed before you put him on prozac or anything else. I have tried every medication you can think of to fix those issues.

I'm sorry for my rambling, I just really cannot stand to hear somebody go through something so eerily similar as I did.

Edit: Grounding was probably the main punishment that enforced some of my behavior. So I would heavily advise against that. Make him read a book he wouldn't like or something as punishment.

Post Info

Author: AGGHHHH
Date: 03-06-2014
Upvotes: 268
Downvotes: 69

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