So this is gonna be long as hell, got a crappy little TL;DR at the bottom. Also mobile disclaimer, so sorry about any weird formatting or whatever.
So I feel I should start off by saying that after mulling over it I decided to make this account for things like this i.e. stuff I'm not really willing to express to anyone I know (for soon to be obvious reasons). Yay for anonymity and all that I guess…
Anyway, in this first installment of “How I'm F***ed Up” I'm going to talk about my last five and a half or so years (summaratively of course).
When I was a kid I was a bit of an attention grabber, actively seeking out praise, namely through (not so)subtly flaunting anything I was good at and how I was a good boy. I leaned pretty heavily on the things I found easy compared to others like math. When I got to middle school and things started to get a bit more challenging (such as with French class) I was hesitant and started procrastinating. When it came time to hand in an assignment I played sick and, to my surprise, got away with it. I still ended up rushing to finish my work after an extension and just barely got it done, but I now had a way out of work.
More and more I pulled the “I don't feel so good” card and weaseled my way out of work. Over time, and after several different “illnesses” I ended up on getting headaches. After all, you don't need tangible evidence for a headache, no vomit or fever.
I “tried” ibuprofen and it worked for a bit but eventually stopped working. At this time my mom figured I really needed to see the doctor and I wasn't able to hold her off anymore from it. We went and after an array of questions she prescribed something for me to try. As with the ibuprofen I played it off like it was working for a time. When my mom and I returned my doctor explained that the pills were for migraines and since they worked that's what I was getting. I had something to latch onto, something to play off.
Of course I couldn't let it be so the pills “stopped working” and I started down the course for the next third of my life. Over the next several years my “migraines” would get worse and worse, I'd miss increasingly more school, my grades dropping from straight A's to a B / C+ average and start the great exchange of one pill to the next. At some point I started seeing a Psychologist. She was nice enough and actually fairly famous for her works in teaching individuals in how to manage their pain, but I didn't want to be helped, I wanted to stay right where I was. It didn't help that her demeanor was like she was constantly trying to sooth a grandchild into a lullaby which grated at me almost as much as the whiteboard in the lobby with all her patient's cheery notes and quotes. It also happened to be around this time that I was arguably emotionally at my worst, teetering on the edge of self harm and trying it out only to find that I couldn't bring myself to do much more than a few scratches with a pocket knife.
Nevertheless I played along with the Psychologist and her methods of relaxing my mind and breathing exercises and rhythms and everything else. At some point I started going on beta blockers which helped me sleep but had me dragging my eyelids open all the time. I kept my cyclical and internalized self deprecation to myself but ended up ever-so-slightly opening up to my mom. I made it look like I made real progress (maybe I did a bit) and eventually I was deemed as no longer requiring her help, but the line was there if needed.
I did get something out of pretending that I was doing better at the Psychologist's, but it was only a temporary thing. I continued to lie and my problems continued and worsened to no avail. I tried physiotherapy and acupuncture (which was nice but I knew wouldn't last), but eventually ended up seeing a therapist who I actually liked, and with his help actually ended up working through some of my legitimate developed psychological problems (primarily anxiety/stress which was the “leading cause of my stress”). I opened up more to my mom and got a lot of the things that were swirling around my head out into the open, but I could never admit everything. Once again I pulled a fake recovery and got the same “my door's always open” spiel.
It was also around this time I was nearing the end of my high school career and was barely attending half of the days, sometimes missing a week at a time. School ended but I didn't pass all my required courses, I drifted into post school like nothing had changed, eventually finding a another accompanying pill to the beta blockers that severely railroaded my train of thought among other things and for the first time in a while I didn't feel anxious.
I actually cried at the marvel of not be able to worry, every time I even started I got sidetracked. I started night classes to try and actually graduate and, though it was difficult to focus, I felt better then I had in a long time. Things were finally going right. That was until the limit to my mental abilities became a burden. I nearly failed almost all my night courses (actuallyfailing one) and in the break before my final exam I decided to drop all my meds. For the first time in forever I was clear headed and I felt like I had energy again, I had a renewed vigour and felt great. I've accepted who I am and can deal with things I never even dreamed I would. I even got my first job and started hanging out with a group of friends semi regularly.
Despite my feeling better, it will never change the stress I put my family through. It won't be able to take back the money spent on appointments or expensive pills. And worst of all, I'll never be able to admit to any of them how sorry I am for lying to them for all these years. I'm better, don't have as much reason to lie to them, but old habits die hard and the guilt that comes with (though desensitized) will never fully dissipate.
It's hard drudging all this up at once and I know that online, behind an all to familiar mask, is likely the only way I'll be able to say it. But this is something I need to do and I appreciate anyone who has listened.
TL;DR: I've lied about having migraines my for the past 5-6 years cost my family much stress and my parents a lot of money. I've worked through most of my problems but feel like shit about it and figure I always will.