Ask Lemmy

That I have ADHD. Turns out depression and panic attacks were only side effects.

That the thing I’ve been after my entire life but couldn’t identify or articulate was, in fact, autonomy.

This, after growing up in a house full of overbearing, hypercritical family members, willingly entering into a marriage with someone who treated me like property, being micromanaged, and taught that the key to happiness lies in pleasing others, and living in quiet desperation and letting it build and build until I finally imploded and ended up institutionalized.

In the process of rebuilding my life I made a few mistakes, namely going back to a few of those relationships and trying to make new relationships fit that mold. At least this time I had a little self awareness though. I decided to end all of those relationships and start living on my own terms. And that was when the epiphany hit that this was the autonomy I’ve been craving - and had been denied - my whole life.

I’m way happier now.

I'm actually a sane, nice person. I'm unhappy because I am dealing with people who aren't.

That literally never occurred to me. I thought I was the problem.

Codependency is self-destructive, not romantic.

Chronic Anxiety and chronic depression are very similar and tied to similar thought processes and self-fulfilling cycles.

You can't truly be there for others if you aren't there for yourself.

Perspective shifting between others and yourself is a powerful tool of understanding and affording yourself the benefits of the doubt that can be hard to muster sometimes.

That I have zero coping skills for stress at all. Not that therapy helped.

I learned that not having a stable home growing up means I never trust the safety or longevity of any living situation, therefore, I never get comfortable.

I learned that my last therapist would rather talk at me and give me all the textbook talk and exercises rather than allow me to talk and tailor the therapy to my needs.

The therapist before that was alright and from him I learned I disassociated from a lot of childhood due to relatives dying (my sister, great grandparents, uncles, my dad), my dad leaving, moving to another country and eventually dying. I never cried as a child and only started expressing proper emotion after my daughter was born. I've also been cheated on in every major relationship I've had. My daughter's mother left me after cheating on me, I had to move out and not see my daughter daily,fell into a severe pit of depression after feeling I'd lost everything. I truly believe I'm the issue in every relationship, friend or otherwise, that I have. I talk with people, they seem nice and we get along then boom, ghosted. Every. Single. Time. I don't have anyone around me that really puts in the effort to reach out and make the effort to connect with me.

To be honest I feel like my problems don't seem nearly as bad as others which makes me feel like a fraud.

I may have went off track a tad here and my message feels severely fragmented. I'm sorry I'll see myself out

There isn't really anything I can do about my depression. It will be lifelong and a constant struggle to work against. Some people's baseline is just low.

I really did think everythung through in the way that therapy primotes, and was on the right path emotionally as far as therapy goes so therapy wouldn't be a benefit. Therapist recommendsd that I should get checked out for a possible processing disorder and recommend a specialist.

After an initial misdiagnosis, ended up with an ADHD diagnosis and eventually the right meds!

That I have severe OCD - like off the charts. Lately it’s been replaying the Charlie Kirk murder video in my head that I accidentally saw at 2:00am in a surprise intrusive image attack. So that’s fun. Other things include checking and rechecking everything I fucking do until I’m exhausted, among many other things.

I discovered that I wasn’t having panic attacks. I was having seizures. Yay!

That I feel immense guilt about any time spent not being productive in some way and believed (wrongly) that you can always just plan and to-do list your way out of feeling crappy. I basically learned to forgive myself for needing time to recover from stuff.

Not really about myself but in general: "Not dwelling" on things doesn't mean ignoring them.

I don't have a fear of change, but a fear of letting people I care about down.

And insane amounts of anxiety.

Not all of it was exactly because I went to therapy, but therapy opened the door to examining myself in a non-judgemental way. I started going because I thought I had adhd and wanted help with it, along with crippling social anxiety. When I started I thought I was a cishet man with adhd. After a while I realized I'm actually a bi trans woman with adhd and autism. Somewhat recently I've started to think I might also be aromantic, but I'm not really sure. On a more therapy note I also discovered just how profound the damage from my parents/upbringing was. I sometimes wish I could make them really understand how much they hurt me and how much it has held me back in life.

That I have difficulty establishing healthy boundaries and that it serves literally noone (myself or others) to fail to do so.

Being neurodiverse and scoring well on standardized/IQ testing doesn't excuse being an utter menace.

I actually don't remember the details but there were a lot of hard pills to swallow mainly about taking responsibility for myself which often made me think "why do I have to go through this and others not?".

• That I indeed have OCD.
• That I indeed have a form of social anxiety/ agoraphobia.
• That some things from the past still worries me despite thinking it would not.
• I quickly get into negative thoughts and learnt how to slowly but steadily change that.
• That I was afraid of admitting that certain things from the past were indeed someone else’s fault and not my own (I never wanted to be the kind of person that point fingers to others).

And a couple of other things but these were the main ones.

I discovered that I suck at participating in therapy. I tried so many therapists and never got anything out of it.

Wait, you people actually discover things at therapy? All I discovered, was what I already knew, but the therapist phrased it more eloquently, and confirmed it.

Not advice I could put into practice, and she said more than I could absorb...

That when breathing funny is a ptsd trigger, breathing exercises and meditation is a bad idea. Reciting memorized poetry helps more— the Raven did me wonders, Jabberwocky too.

Sorry it isn’t the kind of more generalized advice that applies to more people, but you asked what I discovered about myself, personally. You probably don’t have a ptsd trigger when focusing on your breathing— that probably helps you relax.

That I wasn't Zen about endings, I was just never allowing anyone close.

Not engaging with my narcboomerdad as a teen was the best defense I could have utilized and that I am actually sane.

And to everyone who shared, thanks for sharing.

That my family was crazy. I grew up in a crazy dynamic, looking back now, was like living in a strict dictatorship like North Korea, so I never questioned them.

I didn't really go into therapy to find something out about myself, I only went into therapy to try and confirm suspicions about myself.

I am just not surprised that a lot of my issues is linked with childhood problems and that I never had a considerably normal childhood and an even lesser normal upbringing when growing up. That was all but confirmed.

The way everyone around me feels, isn't my responsibility or fault.

The amount of trauma AND DADDY AND MOMMY ISSUES I HAVE IS IMENSE

Once my general anxiety got under control, that some anxiety is actually protective and can clue me in to things. A while ago, anxiety was my first clue that I was in burn out territory (I ignored it and ended up with some suicidal ideation, but got out before that got worse). More recently it let me know that a situation would be bad for me to continue with. I pulled out before it got worse for me or affected others.

That I don't have to believe every nonsense my brain comes up with