Hello to anyone who is reading this (I doubt there is). Well, I guess I should start from the beginning, huh?
Well, I was born to a lovely family in a town in Minnesota. I have two mothers (yes, they are gay) and one older brother who has special needs. I had a pretty normal young childhood, I went to preschool, I learned to read and write younger than most other kids, and overall nothing much to say until four.
Now at four is when my life with my mental disorders began, although since I was born with them maybe you could argue that I have always had them. Anyways, at four is when my mental illnesses decided to rear their ugly heads. I spent most of the time form the ages of about four to five hiding in my room away from the world. I never wanted to do anything new because it was scary, and I had the innate ability to cry at the drop of a hat. My parents decided that this probably wasn’t normal behavior for a four year old, so they sent me to a shrink.
Now, I have nothing against therapists, in fact the one I see right now is awesome, but this one was horrible. I spent most of the time sitting in the back corner reading picture books or playing with a tiny doll house while my parents just told her what was wrong with me and she diagnosed me without saying much to me. I got put on Prozac for six months, seemed to be better and then was taken off. I was a happy normal kid again, cured of my disorders and would now go off to live a normal healthy stress free life. Or so I thought.