PART 1 - HEAVY READING
Bartonella is a tick-borne disease that has resided in my brain and body for a decade now. As well as causing severe sensory disturbances, it messes with your emotions on a chemical level and brings about what is called 'the perfect storm' for last minute, rash, unplanned acts of suicide or even homicide. It messes with your neurotransmitters, can cause an endless surge in glutimate, unbalances tryptophan and all kinds of other things that makes someone with an infected brain susceptable to totally out of character acts like this. This is what happened to me and it has destoroyed my psyche, my relationship with my sense of self and body in horrific ways. The congnitive dissonance this has brought about is massive and something I know I will never recover from - let alone the disease itself... which I still suffer from and can barely even think about due to the massive, unending trauma the bridge fall caused. It was hardly me at the driving seat when it happened - my brain was so inflamed and messed up. I already had my diagnosis when it happened - 2 years too late. I had spent a year going through absolute hell trying to kill off this chronic infection. I had, most disturbing of all, developed intense non-stop acid-trip-like visual disturbances which were terrifying. This is a rare symptom and I was terrified it was brain damage and that I would be stuck that way for the rest of my life. Meanwhile, on top of that the chemical mess that my brain had become was inducing a sense of absolute doom and despair. A very dangerous combination. I fought through the terror and resisted the suicidal feelings as hard as I could untill unfortunate outside circumstances pushed things too far for me to stop resisting and cave in suddenly to the terror and sense of total despair. My mother had just married a narcissist who did not like me taking up my mother's attention with my illness so he crafted a very devious plan to get me sectioned by falsifying lots of fake stories about ways I was behaving that were total lies. He then convinced his doctor chum to have me sectioned on the basis of these lies. This is what broke the camel's back. The thought of being sectioned under false pretences and stuck in a facility while experiencing these constant, terrifying psychadelic visuals was too frightening. I
was convinced I would totally loose my mind in there, go mad, never get out... and suddenly, in a state of panic I found myself running to a footbridge .... climbing the stairs and rolling off of it... falling 35 feet onto a concrete path. In my head... I felt like
I would be better off dead than institutionalised. It's crazy. I was villainised when I should have been properly taken care of.. at a time when I was most vulnerable. I have no permanent injuries but I shattered so much of my body thatit took alot of work to put me back together. While I was in hospital, this new stepfather abused my mother and convinced the doctors to get her sectioned too. Pure evil. People say I am lucky to have walked away from it... yet they do not realise I came out of hospital a broken man that I can't bear being into an alien world that I no longer recognise. It has been 5 years of severe PTSD, OCD, AGOROPHOBIA, BODY HORROR, BDD ETC... ETC...
PART 2
The irony of all this is that only just prior to getting infected and this nightmare starting (which has now consumed most of my 40s) I had the most beautiful couple of years, wherin I felt like I had recovered from my previous - moderately tough - mental health issues which stemmed from a shitty childhood with a different abusive stepfather. My 20s were great but at 30, out of the blue, I developed OCD, BDD and AGOROPHOBIA. It was weired for such a confident young man to suddenly find himself in the midst if all this. But eventually... near 40... I miraculously, finally came out the other side. It was wonderful. My confidence returned, I was feeeling very positive about the future, I had just been awarded a large sum of money to make a film, I had a few dates finally, I adopted a beautiful little cat who gave me so much joy and stole my heart completely. I was utterly in love with life again... it was all quite blissful actually. It kills me to think that sll that was taken away by a tick bite and some diabolically unlucky circumstances. I had my own flat in London... wonderful friends nearby... felt incredibly loved...
Then this. Unbelievable. All that is gone. Hospital was traumatic as hell. I was pumped full of antibiotic and spent a month feeling like I might die at any moment as my brain and body felt like it was frying... exploding. This is what happens when you nuke the infection... mòre inflamation. I only had one arm that wasn't broken so I couldn't move while in this seemingly unending agony. It was so frightening and excruciating that I kept saying goodbye on the phone to my friend because I was sure my brain woukd haemorrhage or something. It didn't though. After 4 weeks of this hell all my symptoms did clear up... but returned even worse when the antibiotic was stopped. I hobbled out of hopital a skeleton full of titanium 3 months later and ended up spending years alternating between family and friends as I learnt to walk again. And all the while... the sense of altered self, body horror at the physical changes to my body, feeling alien, unable to recognise myself ir the world. It's felt unendingly sickening and despairing. I'm a sensitive soul... given my previous frailties... I'm just not equipped for this and, sadly deep-down have felt too broken to see any kind of bareable future.
All the while the disease rages. Massive amounts of chronic pain, visual disturbances continue 24/7... cutting me off from the world.
Well... ill leave it mostly at that. I finally, after 7 years of exile, returned to 'home' - London and it has been a nightmare. I have very few friends left here. In most cases we've drifted apart somewhat. They have nearly all moved on, settled down and are leading functional lives. I feel like an alien freak that cannot cope with the unending trauma and can barely leave my flat. I don't know what to do minute to minute except try to hold down my insane feelings of anxiety and disgust. Im now nearly 50 and I have zero confidence, can't bear my body, don't recognise myself, feel lost and hopeless. It's hard to describe. Involvement with mental health services yields nothing. My beautiful kitty died very unexpectedly a week into moving back. A piece of me died with her. She was my constant conpanion throughout this ordeal and her sudden death has only added to the CPTSD and sense of the death of a life that wad once rich and full of light. My one renaining close friend keeps telling me to fight... to rebuild... yet I feel too broken and just want out now. Well... sorry for the miserable, long story.
Bartonella is a tick-borne disease that has resided in my brain and body for a decade now. As well as causing severe sensory disturbances, it messes with your emotions on a chemical level and brings about what is called 'the perfect storm' for last minute, rash, unplanned acts of suicide or even homicide. It messes with your neurotransmitters, can cause an endless surge in glutimate, unbalances tryptophan and all kinds of other things that makes someone with an infected brain susceptable to totally out of character acts like this. This is what happened to me and it has destoroyed my psyche, my relationship with my sense of self and body in horrific ways. The congnitive dissonance this has brought about is massive and something I know I will never recover from - let alone the disease itself... which I still suffer from and can barely even think about due to the massive, unending trauma the bridge fall caused. It was hardly me at the driving seat when it happened - my brain was so inflamed and messed up. I already had my diagnosis when it happened - 2 years too late. I had spent a year going through absolute hell trying to kill off this chronic infection. I had, most disturbing of all, developed intense non-stop acid-trip-like visual disturbances which were terrifying. This is a rare symptom and I was terrified it was brain damage and that I would be stuck that way for the rest of my life. Meanwhile, on top of that the chemical mess that my brain had become was inducing a sense of absolute doom and despair. A very dangerous combination. I fought through the terror and resisted the suicidal feelings as hard as I could untill unfortunate outside circumstances pushed things too far for me to stop resisting and cave in suddenly to the terror and sense of total despair. My mother had just married a narcissist who did not like me taking up my mother's attention with my illness so he crafted a very devious plan to get me sectioned by falsifying lots of fake stories about ways I was behaving that were total lies. He then convinced his doctor chum to have me sectioned on the basis of these lies. This is what broke the camel's back. The thought of being sectioned under false pretences and stuck in a facility while experiencing these constant, terrifying psychadelic visuals was too frightening. I
was convinced I would totally loose my mind in there, go mad, never get out... and suddenly, in a state of panic I found myself running to a footbridge .... climbing the stairs and rolling off of it... falling 35 feet onto a concrete path. In my head... I felt like
I would be better off dead than institutionalised. It's crazy. I was villainised when I should have been properly taken care of.. at a time when I was most vulnerable. I have no permanent injuries but I shattered so much of my body thatit took alot of work to put me back together. While I was in hospital, this new stepfather abused my mother and convinced the doctors to get her sectioned too. Pure evil. People say I am lucky to have walked away from it... yet they do not realise I came out of hospital a broken man that I can't bear being into an alien world that I no longer recognise. It has been 5 years of severe PTSD, OCD, AGOROPHOBIA, BODY HORROR, BDD ETC... ETC...
PART 2
The irony of all this is that only just prior to getting infected and this nightmare starting (which has now consumed most of my 40s) I had the most beautiful couple of years, wherin I felt like I had recovered from my previous - moderately tough - mental health issues which stemmed from a shitty childhood with a different abusive stepfather. My 20s were great but at 30, out of the blue, I developed OCD, BDD and AGOROPHOBIA. It was weired for such a confident young man to suddenly find himself in the midst if all this. But eventually... near 40... I miraculously, finally came out the other side. It was wonderful. My confidence returned, I was feeeling very positive about the future, I had just been awarded a large sum of money to make a film, I had a few dates finally, I adopted a beautiful little cat who gave me so much joy and stole my heart completely. I was utterly in love with life again... it was all quite blissful actually. It kills me to think that sll that was taken away by a tick bite and some diabolically unlucky circumstances. I had my own flat in London... wonderful friends nearby... felt incredibly loved...
Then this. Unbelievable. All that is gone. Hospital was traumatic as hell. I was pumped full of antibiotic and spent a month feeling like I might die at any moment as my brain and body felt like it was frying... exploding. This is what happens when you nuke the infection... mòre inflamation. I only had one arm that wasn't broken so I couldn't move while in this seemingly unending agony. It was so frightening and excruciating that I kept saying goodbye on the phone to my friend because I was sure my brain woukd haemorrhage or something. It didn't though. After 4 weeks of this hell all my symptoms did clear up... but returned even worse when the antibiotic was stopped. I hobbled out of hopital a skeleton full of titanium 3 months later and ended up spending years alternating between family and friends as I learnt to walk again. And all the while... the sense of altered self, body horror at the physical changes to my body, feeling alien, unable to recognise myself ir the world. It's felt unendingly sickening and despairing. I'm a sensitive soul... given my previous frailties... I'm just not equipped for this and, sadly deep-down have felt too broken to see any kind of bareable future.
All the while the disease rages. Massive amounts of chronic pain, visual disturbances continue 24/7... cutting me off from the world.
Well... ill leave it mostly at that. I finally, after 7 years of exile, returned to 'home' - London and it has been a nightmare. I have very few friends left here. In most cases we've drifted apart somewhat. They have nearly all moved on, settled down and are leading functional lives. I feel like an alien freak that cannot cope with the unending trauma and can barely leave my flat. I don't know what to do minute to minute except try to hold down my insane feelings of anxiety and disgust. Im now nearly 50 and I have zero confidence, can't bear my body, don't recognise myself, feel lost and hopeless. It's hard to describe. Involvement with mental health services yields nothing. My beautiful kitty died very unexpectedly a week into moving back. A piece of me died with her. She was my constant conpanion throughout this ordeal and her sudden death has only added to the CPTSD and sense of the death of a life that wad once rich and full of light. My one renaining close friend keeps telling me to fight... to rebuild... yet I feel too broken and just want out now. Well... sorry for the miserable, long story.
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