I have always known of the abuse to a certain degree, but I guess I built walls and put many things in different compartments to forget. But 13 yrs, 7 months & 13 days ago I finally got the straw that broke the camels back so to speak, when our son was killed. He was 19.
Without the meds (I would stop meds and then later crash) that only caused me to become worse. I got to the point I couldn't any longer function and couldn't even take care of my own basic needs. Essentially I shut down, I couldn't feel or function or even concentrate. The grief, hatred, anger, & rage was eating me alive. Then I started to remember the abuse from my childhood in bits and pieces. The walls & compartments I had built over the years started crumbling! I guess I wasn't a very good mason!
In March of this year, I went back to my P and finally came clean (finally told him of the abuse). I figured it was time so that I could get help dealing with it all. He was great, understanding, & compassionate. He put me on Cymbalta, Wellbutin, Buspirone and Seroquel, but they are helping with the symptoms & the pain. With all the other medications I take for other probs, there are enough pills to choke a horse. Then in June he suggested I seek Therapy. In Sept I finally found a Therapist I felt comfortable with.
Sorry for babbling on, really didn't mean to do so! I will close for now.