Dear Lisa:

First, I will retell a part of the story you shared starting May 1, 2017, in your thread Alone. Second, I will offer you my understanding and recommendations, quoting from your two threads.

First part: You were born to two teenager parents in the 1960s, your teenage mother possibly indulged in alcohol and drugs while pregnant with you. You were given away as a baby but retrieved. You  grew up with your grandparents (whom you believed were your parents) and your mother and uncles (whom you believed were your much older siblings). From time to time, there were terrible fights in the house: fights, screaming and yelling. You were scared and hid in your room during those fights, blocking the door from the inside. You spent a whole lot of time in your room, scared and Alone, daydreaming of a different kind of life.

Outside the house, you were “a target for  bullies”: you were bullied by children who lived on your street,  and by children on the grounds of the Catholic grade school you attended, unprotected by the nuns, and by fellow teenagers in high school, and by “some teachers and people I trusted”.

As a child, you had “frequent accidents.. at bedtime which was seen as a behavioral problem” and you were “often chastised for it”. You were “described as a hyperactive child”, “prone to tantrums”, couldn’t sit still in grade school. Believed to suffer from Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder (ADHD),  you were “put on a pill daily”. At 14 or 15,  a different doctor refused to prescribe it for you any longer, and as a result, your Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) became worse: “I obsess a lot and constantly wash my hands. My obsessions for example was worrying that if I didn’t pick the right cup something bad was going to happen. I also thought I could prevent bad things from happening by whatever shirt I put on that day”. When you were 14,  your grandmother died and you were “devastated by her death”.

In high school you had “big dreams.. wanted to be a cheerleader.. fell in love, wanted to learn”, but it “turned out to be a disaster”- you were “almost promptly bullied.. lost cheerleading”, and you quit high school in the 9th grade. It was then that your grandfather set you up with your first therapist. The therapist “was very nice but she couldn’t get me back into school”.

At 15, you stayed at home Alone, “didn’t go out.. had no friends.. cleaned the house, did everyone’s laundry… missed out on dating.. missed out on the proms.. missed  out on friendship.. missed out on graduation.. missed out on being a teenager… For the most part I spent time in the library and fantasizing about being someone else.. (with) connections to people”.

At about 17, you were pressured to get a job, and from then on, for 35 years so far, you worked in many lower paying jobs, doing hard physical work, keeping a roof over your head and taking care of your most basic survival, living here and there, renting rooms in people’s home, and currently living with a roommate: “I am always in survival mode with little bursts of ambition that fizzle out and then I just remain in survival mode. I have always wanted to be an artist. I have done murals.. I took art classes at Community College but didn’t finish my associate’s degree. I earned a certificate in Interior Design and never pursued a job. I wanted to be a journalist and a writer.. I wanted to be a teacher.. I’ve wanted to be an art therapist, art teacher…later on I actually took classes in real estate and barely graduated only to fail the exams…

“So stressed. I can not make these things happen. All the while I am dreaming of myself in some alternate universe in a relationship with a man.. I have tried medication, diet, exercise, affirmations, self help tapes, a couple seminars, hypnosis, psychics, gemstones, therapy, therapy, therapy, yoga, outpatient treatment, group therapy, Self help books, books on how to flirt, I have tried even more”.

You are currently 52, having daydreamed of having a relationship with a man since you were a teenager. You are yet to have one.

Second part – in the next post, probably tomorrow.

anita