I'm new here. I don't even know where to begin. I'm sorry this post is a little long. I wonder if anyone will read it?! hmm My parents got divorced when I was three. Why they were ever married is beyond me. Anyway, my mom literally ran away with me when my dad was at work and we moved into the first apartment she could find, which was a few blocks away. My dad moved into another apartment in the same neighborhood, so we were still just a few blocks away, but seeing him was a problem. On Wednesday nights and every other weekend, my dad would wait in my lobby, while my mom did everything she could to keep me upstairs, sometimes for hours, sometimes for the whole night. On numerous occasions, my dad called the police to get me out of the apartment, and they even threatened to knock down the door once. My mom acted like being at home was the "safe" place to be, and, as a young child, that just made me confused. I felt like one of my parents had to be the "good" parent and the other was inherently evil, but I didn't know who was which. When my mom was with me, she would cross examine me about every little thing I had done with my dad, as if it were her job to sanctify what was right and what wasn't. When my dad was with me, he'd scream at me about how I'm never with him. My mom stopped working to be a "full-time mother," but somehow she forgot to pick me up from elementary school on time. I remember teachers coming up to me, asking me why I was always waiting around the school and being so embarrassed that I wanted to cry. My mom wouldn't give me the key, so I couldn't go home alone. If my parents were close enough to see each other, there were sure to be problems. I don't know how many times they made a scene in front of me, fighting over me, sometimes literally. It was purely disgusting. I witnessed my parent's ferociousness towards each other, and took things in the opposite direction. I deduced that I had to be the nicest person in the world. I had a few good friends in elementary and middle school, but my mom got into an argument with the principal, and I ended up going to an all guys school. This was the last thing I wanted to do, but I knew I had to be in school, and my mom told me that's where I HAD to go. At this point, I don't know why I didn't move in with my dad, who was now living an hour away in another state, and go to public school there. Part of it had to do with the fact that my mom had gotten her side of my family to pay for the school, and although I hadn't agreed to go (in fact, I did just the opposite) I felt guilty that the money would be wasted if I wasn't going to attend. Also, at this point I didn't feel as comfortable with my dad as I do now, since I didn't see him very often. Also, he pretty much told me I shouldn't be the way I am. This new school was hell. I think I heard "your ugly" an average of once a day. I got dirt thrown at me by several kids, and nobody backed me up. Everyone thought it was absolutely hilarious. A couple of years later, someone punched me in the face out of the blue. I didn't even retaliate, and he made up some story so that I got ridiculed. The "head of the Upper School" wouldn't even listen to me. It was like I was invisible. I spent my time out of school with a kid who I went to middle school with. I could relate to him because we both had dysfunctional families. We got to be very close friends, and he eventually pressured me into doing a couple of things which I regret now (and regretted during and right afterwards) and would never ever think of condoning or doing again. I wish I could erase them from my memory, but of course I can't. I want a clean soul. ..Meanwhile, I met some girls at sister schools, but I was dead quiet around them, because I was afraid of starting any type of relationship with them. One time a girl said I was very handsome and asked me out, and I freaked out and never spoke with her again. At another point, I did yoga with a couple of girls, and after one of them hopped in a cab, I walked the other one home. I thought I was being nice, but I think I creeped her out, because she never spoke to me again. Another time, a girl was clearly interested in me, and I had some interest in her. But I ended up talking all about myself out of nervousness and yeah, she never spoke to me again. At some point while I was at the all guys school, my mom heard something favorable about a boarding school, and I applied and got in. But I just couldn't envision myself living there. I'd have to share a ride with people just to go somewhere to get a haircut, get something else I needed, or just go somewhere and be alone for a few hours, and at the time that was a disconcerting idea. Also, one of the girls who had showed me around the campus had an alleged crush on me (ironically I was very attracted to her friend) and I was told that if I went to that school I'd have to go out with her. This idea got me extremely anxious, as I was terrified of dates. Again, my mom tried to force me to go to this school, and when I made my argument against it, she told me to take out the garbage and locked me out of the apartment. Luckily, I had my cell phone with me, and was able to get into contact with my friend from school, who lived two blocks away, and sleep at his house. That was not the only time she locked me out. Another time she kicked me out and said I needed to write a well written letter if I wanted to be admitted back in. I don't remember what it was about, but it was something ridiculous. I didn't have paper or a pen, so my mom told me to ask the doorman. He had a pencil, and after I wrote the letter and slipped it under the door, she told me it had to be in pen. Once when she kicked me out, I told her I had slept on the park bench, and might end up continuing to do it on occasion, and she believed me and didn't even blink at the thought of it. Once she told me she'd give me an allowance if I followed a list of things, including chores, abiding by certain behaviors, and plenty of other things. I think it was about thirty pages long. She wrote a children's book about dogs (she's not especially fond of children and she is afraid of dogs.) After being a stay-at-home mom for fourteen years, she got a call from her former boss offering her a new job, which she accepted. For me, life was almost exactly the same, because my mom was never home anyway. Before she went back to work, she always had appointments, whether it be with a physical therapist, doctor, or dentist, or she was doing errands. Flash forward. I'm now nineteen and a freshman in college. I still have problems talking to girls, and I have social anxiety in general as well as feelings of intense paranoia at times. I invited a girl I met at college to my friend from middle school's house over winter break. I didn't want to invite her to my place, because I was embarrassed by its size and the odd set up that my mom insists upon. We ended up drinking a little bit (I just drank a few shots, but I was out of control, possibly because I had taken Kava Kava not too long beforehand.) I spoke out about what a bad friend he was, which is something I would normally never do in front of him. Then, supposedly (I don't have any recollection of this) I threw up all over the place. I started acting aggressive, and, as he told me himself, he punched me repeatedly and choked me for minutes, trying to kill me. His dad came in the room, the girl was just sitting there, and supposedly blood actually spew through the air and hit his dad, and he just stood there. At some point, I hit my head on the corner of a table and got a concussion. My "friend," who is skinny and fortunately not as strong as me (or else he would have killed me) had gotten one miniscule scratch on him. For weeks my face and neck were severely bruised, and it hurt just to move, even to turn on my bed. I was severely nauseated and could hardly eat anything. I kept seeing myself in third person. Eventually, I went to the emergency room and they gave me some medication to help me sleep, which is exactly what I needed. I slept all night and most of the day, skipping my classes. When I was awake, I'd go to the bathroom every twenty or thirty minutes to urinate and then lie back down in bed. My grandparents kindly flew over to visit me one weekend to see how I was doing, and I greatly appreciated it, but I was so sick that I struggled to try to act normal. My grandmother is mentally ill (but also brilliant,) and has all sorts of crazy ideas which she loves to rant about. She means well, but I really didn't want to listen to her ramble on about how computers are evil and all screen should be banned while I was in such an unstable state. I wished I could have shown my grandparents around the campus, as I told them, but I was feeling too ill. My birthday had just passed, and my grandparents had sent me a cake, which I still haven't eaten, although of course I told them I did. I simply couldn't be around many people because I needed to rest. In fact, I hadn't even picked up the cake from the front desk of my dorm when my grandparents arrived. My paranoia shot up as I sat across from the front desk with my grandparents, as I was worried that they had checked to make sure that I had actually received the cake or that they would check. Back to my nineteenth birthday- I ended up going to a movie with one of the few guys on my floor who I actually have gotten to know. I can't really say he has a dysfunctional family, because he doesn't really have a family. Several of his relatives, including his brother and sister, died in a car crash, and his mom died from being an alcoholic. His dad, who smokes pot with him and deals, left him when he was younger, and later came back into his life. He developed bipolar disorder as a result of living through these tragedies. But somehow, I'm more depressed than he is. Anyway, my friend got me some Maalox, because I felt like I needed to throw up, but couldn't, and we drove to the theatre. Just sitting in the car made me feel horrible. As soon as the movie started, I fell asleep lying down. When there was an action seen, the music got loud, I'd wake up for a second, and fall back asleep. I don't think I would have been able to stay awake, even if I wanted to. On the trip back, I told my friend about how, when I was young, my mom bribed me to go to my dad's house when he wasn't home and take back rugs and pictures of me that she had left at their house before my mom ran away with me. He was nice enough to listen. So anyway, after I left my grandparents (this was a few days after my birthday) I went upstairs and my friend (the bipolar guy) and about seven other guys on the floor were about to roll. I wanted a quick fix, and I knew I would come down, but I figured that I'd been feeling like shit anyway, so it wouldn't be anything different. I was so stressed out and depressed about life that I figured "why not." Of course, it was a stupid idea. When I was rushing into the roll, I actually felt horrible. I told my friend, and he flashed a sick smile. "I told you." (Yeah, right.) I had the feeling that I knew I was about to die within a few hours. Suddenly, I started feeling good and was completely relieved when I felt the effects that I was expecting. During the crash, my stomach felt like it was being torn apart. I needed food immediately. I got set back about three days in my recovery from the concussion, but with the aid of pills that I got at the hospital, I was able to get back to living normally. Of course, I was doing horribly in all of my classes, but I have been given a chance to redeem myself. I feel worthless and have been considering dropping out of college. I've been getting fearfully anxious and paranoid in small classes (I was like that in grade school too, but it's been getting worse.) I went to a psychiatrist, who prescribed me Zoloft, which gave me concussion-like side effects. I switched to Celexa, which is definitely helping me, but of course it's not going to solve my problems. I went to a psychiatrist a few months ago, who didn't prescribe me medication because I had gotten that concussion. I did speak to him for an hour and a half though. He told me I'm very treatable, but I don't know if I can believe him. For months, I had paranoid thoughts about the meaning behind what he had told me, and whether he was telling me certain things out of honesty or just to make me feel better. I'm afraid if I go back, the same thing will happen. I really need a girlfriend, or at least girls as a friends. There are so many beautiful girls here, a lot of whom seem fairly easy going, yet I have issues with blushing, perspiring, and panicking when I sense possible attraction. This week, a very pretty girl in my math class made a point of sitting right next to me, when there were plenty of empty seats by the end of the row. I noticed her glancing at me, and I knew I had to speak to her. At the end of class, I forced myself to say something, and we spoke for a minute, but I may not see her again, since the lecture class is so large. Why shouldn't I say good-bye? I have no future, I'm nobody, and I'm worthless. Once I get off this Celexa who knows what will happen to me.