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    (Original post by Precious Illusions)
    Very true. Ultimately it makes you stronger IMO anyway.
    I wouldn't say stronger, just more prepared.
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    (Original post by The_Lonely_Goatherd)
    You want me to condense 26 years of my life into a single post?! :eek3:

    OK, let's try and just give the interesting bits...

    - Born in London into a Sinhalese Catholic family, baptised aged 2 months or slightly less :jebus:

    - Started hearing voices aged 5 :iiam:

    - Went to a convent school with a nun's graveyard in it :eek:

    - Got an Oxford offer in 2006 :king1:

    - Missed said Oxford offer in summer 2007 :facepalm:

    - Got into Oxford anyway! :king1: :yeah: :awesome: :smug:

    - Major psychotic episode in third year of Oxford, triggered by an abusive relationship and two preceding tough years at Oxford
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    Tried to kill myself in the middle of my Finals :cry:
    Sat Finals with no revision and scant medical attention, graduated with 2.2

    - Did a Masters in world and popular musics at Goldsmiths :banana: Another major psychotic episode! Diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder in October 2011 :nopity:

    - Interned for a bit, now doing a PhD in pop music at RHUL :yay:

    Edit: I'm saving my whole Oxford story for an explosive book that I will write one day So I will not divulge too much here :ninja:
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    (Original post by Stefano93)
    And then you woke up from the dream.
    Lol it's hardly a dream my friend.

    But I'm flattered that you think such a life is considered dream-worthy.

    Makes me feel better about the 32k a year I make.
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    (Original post by DiddyDec)
    Today, going to send email to my tutor telling her that I am dripping out, age 21 with no good qualifications and a long history of mental illness. **** it, lets have a beer.


    Well that is the most interesting parts of my life.
    (Original post by keromedic)
    Moved out into houseshare in July 2014 where I currently live and work and study part time.
    Both your stories really touched me Hugs! :grouphugs:
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    The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.
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    (Original post by Tom_Ford)
    The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.
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    (Original post by WoodyMKC)

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    My mother, the British born eldest child of two Polish immigrants (my grandfather was a Polish desert rat at Monte Casino during WWII, and my grandmother was a Polish POW at a concentration camp in Hamburg. They both came to England after the war ended), moved to France in the 1970s to take up a job working at the OECD, having recently returned from living in Australia with her first husband, given that the marriage didn't pan out so well.

    My father was a French Police Inspector at the Parian Headquarters, and due to his work he liaised with Ambassadors who had business at the OECD. It was there that he met my mother, pursued her, and eventually married her in September 1982.

    As a result, I was born in December 1983 in a small private clinic just off the Champs Elysee, and spent just over three years of my life living in a small house in Ivry-Sur-Seine, just on the outskirts of Paris.

    In Spring 1987 my mother decided she'd had enough of France and wanted to return to England where her mother (her father died in 82) and siblings resided. My father, not speaking any English, learnt the language as best he could, and we moved to Leeds.

    Things were a bit rocky as I recall. My father had a fierce temper, and my mother, not being the easiest person in the world to live with, only fuelled his outbursts. I remember many a day when I would hide under the dining room table covering my ears as their blazing rows near-enough shook the house.

    January 1990. I had just turned 6 a fortnight or so prior. I still remember the hurricanes of that January, and the terrifying morning when I had to pull my father away from my mother in the bathroom as he was fit to strangle her will never be erased from my memory. He threw some clothes into a bin liner and left.

    After that we were on our own for a while, but then my mother began struggling with bills, and she decided to become a carer. We would have strange elderly women coming to live with us. One lady, Jessie, she was 96 years old and would eat nothing but the tail end of a fish. Another lady, Dolly (her real name was Olive but she insisted on being called Dolly), was in her 80s. She had severe bowel incontinence, and life was not terribly pleasant when she was around (though she was kind enough).

    I got used to the comings and goings of these women, but I was largely on my own. I devoured books (though not literally, that wouldn't have been terribly tasty!) I would make believe I was in another world somewhere. It got me through the days. Where we lived, we had a wood at the bottom of the garden, so I would pass many long summer days playing in the trees, and leaving notes for fairies by the old oak which overhung the garden.

    In terms of school life, I spent my Reception year in a state school, but they seemed incapable of believing that a 5 year old could read the Chronicles of Narnia, and made no attempt whatsoever to encourage my love of books, instead preferring that I sit and play with stickle-bricks, so I was withdrawn from that school and spent the next 4 years in an all girls private school, where the teaching was superior but the children unkind, and I had no friends at all.

    After 4 years of being miserable at that school, my mother decided to send me to a state school again, though a different one this time to the one I'd spent Reception year in. I made a friend, just one friend. Everybody else thought I was strange.

    Around this time my mother stopped taking in hoards of elderly ladies, and just had one in particular, Lily, who came to live with us on a permanent basis. Additionally my Polish grandmother came to live with us also. As the house only had 3 bedrooms, this meant that I ended up having to sleep in the conservatory, which remained my bedroom until I moved out at the age of almost-19 (but I'm getting ahead of myself a little).

    Through high school, which was an ordinary state Catholic high school, I had a few friends but I don't think I ever particularly fitted in with any of them. I didn't join them in their love of Boyzone or the Spice Girls, and nobody seemed to be able to understand that. I didn't really discover who I really was until much later in life. I think it's difficult, being different from your peers at that sort of age. You know you're not like them, but you can't quite figure out who you actually are as a person. It's a strange time of self-discovery I guess.

    A week before my 15th birthday, my grandmother died. I was heartbroken. To tell you the truth I still don't think I'm over it, and that was 16 years ago! I couldn't bring myself to take her room, so it became a computer room instead.

    At the age of 15 and a half, thereabouts, I had my first kiss, with my first boyfriend, who later (on a separate occasion) raped me. I don't want to go into that, for obvious reasons. It was not a pleasant time in my life.

    I got a weekend job when I was 15 caring for a lady with severe cerebral palsy. The work was hard and the pay was poor, but it was better than nothing. My mother didn't give me any pocket money, so if I didn't want to be stuck at home all the time, I had no choice.
    Prior to that I had done babysitting and newspaper delivering from the age of 13, but I'd packed them both in.

    After a few more very short (and I do mean VERY short) relationships when I was 16, I finally met the man I was going to marry when I was 17 and a half. We met online initially, and we just clicked. At first I told him I wasn't looking for another relationship, I just wanted to be friends, but the attraction between us was undeniable and we began dating. Shortly afterwards he proposed and I said yes. Yep, you heard right, I got engaged at 17!

    Now what became of my father? (I hear you ask). And you might well ask. At first, after he left, I had regular weekly visits, but by the time I was 11 they had fizzled out altogether. I saw him once when I was 14, and then not again until I was 17, when I decided to phone him up and ask if he wanted to get back in contact with me. He agreed, and within a matter of 2 months he was taking me to France to meet my grandfather for the first time since I'd left at the age of 3. It was an emotional reunion. My grandmother had sadly died when I was 11 without me ever having seen her again, which is something I sorely wish had been different.

    I bought a house, with the financial help of my mother, at the age of 18. I'd been working weekends at a bakery and saving up, and my mother had been helping to save also. It was only a 2 bedroomed back-to-back terrace, a real fixer-upper, but it was home. After a lot of restoration, my husband (fiancé at the time of course) and I moved into it together 4 days before my nineteenth birthday. That was in December 2002.

    Sadly, when I was 19, in September 2003, my grandfather in France died. I only met him a handful of times after my dad took me to meet him, but I'm proud to have known him, and I miss my visits at his home.

    After I finished my A levels, my then-fiance lost his job at Tesco (well, to be fair, I say he lost it, in fact he hated it so he quit), so I was forced to defer from starting university in order to get a full time job. I started work at a commercial estate agents named Rosens, specialising in the sale of fish and chips. I grumbled a lot about it at the time, but with hindsight it really wasn't a bad job.

    After a year of working there full time, I finally managed to start university in September 2004. I began a BA Hons French/TESOL degree at Leeds Uni, and still worked at Rosens part time. My then-fiance, by that time, had started working at Maplin the electronics shop, and had been there for several months. Things were going great at first, until January 2005...

    ...I remember it like it was yesterday. Sitting in the bathroom, stick in hand, staring at those two little pink lines. Clear as day. I was pregnant. The tears came, thick and fast, as I realised my life was about to change.

    After a heartfelt talk with my then-fiance, we decided we were going to bring our marriage forward a few years. We had always planned to get married after I finished university, but with the situation being what it was, we hastily planned a wedding for 2nd April 2005. (Little did we know that was the day the Pope was going to die! But that's another story!)

    We married, and in September that year I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Unfortunately it was not smooth sailing, as my husband had just lost his job (yes, this one he really did lose), a couple of weeks prior, and to be honest I was distraught, but we plodded on as best we could.

    I realised I would not be able to continue with my university course as it required spending a year in France, so I deferred for a year whilst I contemplated what to do. When my daughter was 9 months old, my husband found another job, this time as an I.T. First Line Support working for EMIS (they do the computer systems that are used in doctors surgeries and hospitals). Not wanting our daughter to grow up alone as I was, we decided to have another baby.

    It took a few months of trying, and by the time I became pregnant, I had already returned to university and had started a BA Classical Civilisation course instead. I completed that first year of my course in Spring 2007, and my son was born in August that same year. It was a difficult birth, he'd had the cord wrapped around his neck and we both nearly died. Afterwards I suffered from PND for a while. My relationship with my husband turned sour, and I do think that's probably the closest we've ever got to ending it all, but thankfully after many months things went back to normal.

    At this point, just before my son was born, my mother had swapped houses with us. Lily had gone into a nursing home, and my mother felt that the house was too big for her. Likewise ours was too small for a growing family, so we switched, and I ended up back in the house I'd grown up in.

    Again I deferred from my studies for a year, and then tried to return to university in September 2008 but it was no use, our son was too demanding and so I ultimately packed it in, having earned nothing more than a Cert HE in both courses.

    It was only a few months later, in December 2008, that we had what we thought was to be a brilliant idea. My husband would leave his job, and we would set up a business together. He'd had a "marvellous" idea for an online auction website that we could create, and it would be our ticket to...well...to more money, basically!

    At first everything went swimmingly. One day we made over £1000 just that day alone! We thought our problems were over.

    In January 2009 I discovered I was pregnant again. It wasn't a huge shock, and I'd wanted a third anyway so I was delighted. Unfortunately what should have been a joyful pregnancy turned to disruption, as the business began slipping down the toilet. A catalogue of mistakes on the part of the website designers, and the people who ran the server, meant that by the time our son was born that September, our business was truly over.

    That was difficult. Very difficult. We couldn't afford to pay the mortgage we'd taken out on the house (even though we'd swapped homes with my mother, she wanted some money as well as our house because hers was worth so much more, so we took out a mortgage to give her the money). We were facing repossession if we didn't do something about it. We were so strapped for money, that only a week after giving birth, I took on a temp job delivering the Phone Book to houses. Hundreds and hundreds of them. At the time it wasn't a small book either! I could hardly walk, but we were so desperate. My mother-in-law gave us money for food, which I will be ever grateful for.

    Again my husband and I went through a rocky patch for a while. We put the house on the market, and although I shed many tears at the thought of losing the home I'd grown up in, I knew we had no choice. With mortgage lenders and utility companies on our back, we had to ride it out, hoping the house would gain a seller. Even our car was repossessed.

    Finally in May 2010 we had a bite. After having dropped the price of the house from £285,000 to £239,000 in sheer desperation, someone put in an offer of £230k. We jumped on it. What else could we do?

    With a heavy heart, we looked for somewhere else for us to live. We knew after paying the mortgage we would only be left with a significantly smaller amount, so the houses in Leeds were out of the question. We looked further afield, and eventually settled on a nice 3 bedroomed semi overlooking fields and countryside, in Barnsley. It didn't have a dining room, but we knew we'd have about £5k left after we'd bought the house to be able to convert the garage, so that wasn't too bad.

    In July 2010 then, we settled into our new home. My husband's health had gone downhill and his mobility had decreased dramatically (something we now know is due to him having lymphodema), so unfortunately he couldn't look for a new job.
    2011 was the latest rough patch we've been though. Our marriage was once again rocky, and it took a good few months before things started to stabilise. But stabilise, they did. I'm beginning to realise that this is probably going to be a pattern through the course of our marriage - perhaps that's the way it is with all marriages! I don't know!

    Trying to earn a few bob here and there, I dabbled in a few jobs. I did surveys, market research, mystery shopping, and later even phone sex and webcammming. The things we do to get by in life...!

    Imagine my horror then when in November 2012 I saw those two little pink lines again. Despite having been careful, yet again I was pregnant. Seems I'm just too fertile! Being the pro-life sort of gal that I am, I knew, despite my tears and that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, that I couldn't do anything but roll with it.

    Summer 2013 came and I turned my attention back to a book I'd written in late 2011/early 2012. After proof-reading and editing it, I decided to put it out as an ebook. When I'd been very young I'd wanted to become an author, so I thought..."why not?"

    Now here we are. It's January 2015. My three eldest kids are school age. My youngest is 18 months. My book is out in paperback and I'm working on a sequel.

    Life is a funny mix of swings and roundabouts I guess. Who knows where else my journey will take me, but I sure hope it's good.
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    (Original post by Tom_Ford)
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    Was born in 1995.

    Attended a catholic primary in 1999.

    Attended grammar school in 2006.

    Developed depression in about... 2009 over my..appearance.

    Came very close to suicide on numerous occasions.

    Isolated myself from friends and stopped going out in 2010.

    Developed anxiety in sixth form.

    Got into uni to study maths but dropped out after a week.

    Volunteered for a year.

    Got a job in retail.

    Got another temporary teaching assistant job.


    That's it really. Nothing to see here :dong:
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    Wow some of these stories... I really have been living the life...
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    (Original post by WoodyMKC)
    :lol:
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    Probably won't be that interesting, but why not.

    I was born in 1996 in a hospital in Middlesbrough, and spent my whole life living in a village in North Yorkshire, just outside a national park and surrounded by lots of countryside. I remember that my grandparents would often take me up the woods after picking me up from pre-school, which might have been where my fascination with the countryside came from. My dad used to take me out a lot as well.

    I have two brothers who are considerably older than me, so I never had any brothers in my school except for reception year, when one of my brothers was in year 6 and the other in secondary school.

    I started primary school (reception year) in September 2000. For quite a few of my school years I was the shy, quieter kid with few friends. My last school report (end of school year 2006-2007) had words from teachers saying I would usually work on my own and missed out on "social aspects of school life". I think they were right.

    I spent quite a bit of my childhood growing all sorts of trees from seed and planting them on a family friend's farm, as I had an interest in trees and woodland. I was also really good at identifying tree species (still am). So I was quite unusual.

    Started secondary school in 2007. In secondary school I ended up as the weird kid with pretty much no friends, but at the time I was happy to be left alone. Later on (starting in GCSE but particularly in sixth form) I started to change my mind on that, but I was never able to make friends, so I was still on my own all the time. I skipped both my proms because I didn't really have any friendship group and was a bit too shy.

    I started learning to drive not long after I turned 17 (May 2013) and I passed my test in August 2014 (theory at the end of June).

    Started university September 2014. Didn't enjoy freshers week as much as I thought I would, and I still ended up with virtually no proper friends, just like in primary and secondary school. Did get my first job as a student ambassador though, and learnt to live on a small budget.

    That's about it. No depression, no drug addict parents, no divorces, no changes of school due to moving, nothing like that. My family life was/is fine, never had any problems there. My life is pretty uneventful compared to some others on this thread.
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    I' remember it like it was yesterday so I'll talk about it as if its happening now.

    It's that time of the month again, the big race!
    I'm ready to go, I'm going to win this!
    AND WE'RE OFF...

    I'm swimming my way up the vagina, just passed the cervix. I'm in the lead, It's getting harder to get further. I need to get there soon before the bacteria inside the vagina attacks me. I'm inside the uterus, swimming as fast as I can, It doesn't feel like I'm getting any further..

    HOLD ON I CAN SEE THE FALLOPIAN TUBE!

    I've nearly done it! Just keep swimming I tell myself, Just keep swimming...

    There's not many of us left in the race now.

    You can do it, just keep going don't stop!
    and there it is! the egg! waiting for me to fertilize it. Am i going to make it?

    I can almost touch it, I'm almost there.
    Just a little further...

    I try to burrow myself into the egg as quick as possible so no other sperm wins!
    its harder than I thought to get inside the egg.

    I'VE DONE IT! I'M INSIDE! I'VE WON THE RACE!

    And that's how it all began. :moon:
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    (Original post by PinkMobilePhone)
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    Wow. What a story.

    Hope all works out well
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    (Original post by DiddyDec)
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    Your story teared me up. Man, I'm so sorry


    This is the saddest thread ever.
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    (Original post by PinkMobilePhone)
    Now here we are. It's January 2015. My three eldest kids are school age. My youngest is 18 months. My book is out in paperback and I'm working on a sequel.

    Life is a funny mix of swings and roundabouts I guess. Who knows where else my journey will take me, but I sure hope it's good.
    An eventful life for sure! :eek: I hope your journey will take you some place nice

    (Original post by Maid Marian)
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    Came very close to suicide on numerous occasions.
    :jumphug:
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    I've chosen to selectively block out all the sad memories in my past. I'm left with nothing. No story to tell.
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    (Original post by catsis)
    Your story teared me up. Man, I'm so sorry


    This is the saddest thread ever.
    You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn't cause my life to turn out like it has. I mostly did, it is my fault and I just need to deal with it.
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    Got bullied from age 5. Started having anxiety with first symptoms, im sure of, at age 9 (10 years of Anxiety). Bullying lost the plot during Year 8-Year 9. I had to move from a ****ty boy school to a very academic mix school. From there whilst i didn't notice it at the time, i was seen as the loner but it was the last time i had proper friends.

    After i failed my gcses. (left with 3 GCSE's) i went to college to study btec Music, from this was where i started experiencing Depression. Nobody liked me, i was seen as an outcast. Everybody hated me. By first year i didnt pass but was offered to come back 2nd year with fast improvement. In that second year of September-November 2012, i only attended college 4 times. I couldnt stand people looking at me, looking at me like some ******* *******. I just couldn't cope with it.

    They kicked me out because of attendance without warning, im paronoid until this day, that someone blackmailed me to leave. Reasons being because of the way the tutor said 'You wanted to leave' which i never implied. After this i went to a centre full of losers. This Continued until June 2013 when i was offered my first paid job as a door to door salesman. I was tricked and it was commission. I realise i had a phobia as a man not liking football as that job everybody loved football. I quit and after went for another job.

    I was still suicidal. I was lucky at the age of 18 to do an access course in Music. Sadly this lasted until December 2013. Got kicked out for the same stupid reasons - Attendance and anxiety. 2014 proved to be a horrifc year. I kept getting sacked out of street fundraising jobs and my feud with family was getting worse and worse. My result saw me being forced to go to Nigeria where i developed strong lusts for women and acted harrasment against them. I even fought with people in that country because they pissed me off

    Today i think im winning, University is calling after a 4 year battle with two offers in the bag. I'm still an anxious depressed **** with poor attendance but my college dont give a **** about me.
 
 
 
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