4,49 €
A Life of Broken Dreams
Par :Formats :
Disponible dans votre compte client Decitre ou Furet du Nord dès validation de votre commande. Le format ePub est :
- Compatible avec une lecture sur My Vivlio (smartphone, tablette, ordinateur)
- Compatible avec une lecture sur liseuses Vivlio
- Pour les liseuses autres que Vivlio, vous devez utiliser le logiciel Adobe Digital Edition. Non compatible avec la lecture sur les liseuses Kindle, Remarkable et Sony
, qui est-ce ?Notre partenaire de plateforme de lecture numérique où vous retrouverez l'ensemble de vos ebooks gratuitement
Pour en savoir plus sur nos ebooks, consultez notre aide en ligne ici
C'est si simple ! Lisez votre ebook avec l'app Vivlio sur votre tablette, mobile ou ordinateur :
- FormatePub
- ISBN8230466949
- EAN9798230466949
- Date de parution12/04/2025
- Protection num.pas de protection
- Infos supplémentairesepub
- ÉditeurIndependently Published
Résumé
This is the true story of the difficult and disappointing life that I have lived, how badly my family and I have all suffered as a result of my son's severe OCD, and how we were all failed by everyone we sought help from. From the very beginning, I had a very difficult and unhappy childhood because I was beaten by my parents and bullied by my classmates. Growing up, I always dreamed of being happily married with two children, and I promised myself that I would raise my children with all of the love and care that I never had from my own parents.
However, throughout my adult life, every time I think that I have finally found happiness, it always gets shattered somehow. When my ten-year-old son, Peter, suddenly and unexpectedly developed patterns of very strange behaviours, I made the terrible mistake of ignoring them and not doing anything about them, thinking that it was just a phase which he would eventually grow out of. Little did I know that his 'things' were the beginning of a severe OCD which only escalated over the years and changed him from a gentle, loving and caring son into an extremely violent and angry young man who I no longer even recognised.
This new Peter was constantly swearing, threatening me with language that I never dreamed would have come out of my own son's mouth, and physically abusing me by punching me and kicking me. This new Peter had also developed a particular dislike for his father, and the more he despised his father, the more he took it out on me. As Peter continued to worsen, my husband and I both realised that we desperately needed to seek psychiatric help for our son, but we refrained from doing so for fear of the consequences that an official record of mental illness may have on Peter's future.
However, eventually Peter had deteriorated so badly that my husband and I both knew that we had no choice. Little did I know that seeking help would be the beginning of the end for me and my family because instead of a psychiatrist, all we got was social services, whose incompetence and inexperience only made things worse and ultimately tore my family apart.
However, throughout my adult life, every time I think that I have finally found happiness, it always gets shattered somehow. When my ten-year-old son, Peter, suddenly and unexpectedly developed patterns of very strange behaviours, I made the terrible mistake of ignoring them and not doing anything about them, thinking that it was just a phase which he would eventually grow out of. Little did I know that his 'things' were the beginning of a severe OCD which only escalated over the years and changed him from a gentle, loving and caring son into an extremely violent and angry young man who I no longer even recognised.
This new Peter was constantly swearing, threatening me with language that I never dreamed would have come out of my own son's mouth, and physically abusing me by punching me and kicking me. This new Peter had also developed a particular dislike for his father, and the more he despised his father, the more he took it out on me. As Peter continued to worsen, my husband and I both realised that we desperately needed to seek psychiatric help for our son, but we refrained from doing so for fear of the consequences that an official record of mental illness may have on Peter's future.
However, eventually Peter had deteriorated so badly that my husband and I both knew that we had no choice. Little did I know that seeking help would be the beginning of the end for me and my family because instead of a psychiatrist, all we got was social services, whose incompetence and inexperience only made things worse and ultimately tore my family apart.
This is the true story of the difficult and disappointing life that I have lived, how badly my family and I have all suffered as a result of my son's severe OCD, and how we were all failed by everyone we sought help from. From the very beginning, I had a very difficult and unhappy childhood because I was beaten by my parents and bullied by my classmates. Growing up, I always dreamed of being happily married with two children, and I promised myself that I would raise my children with all of the love and care that I never had from my own parents.
However, throughout my adult life, every time I think that I have finally found happiness, it always gets shattered somehow. When my ten-year-old son, Peter, suddenly and unexpectedly developed patterns of very strange behaviours, I made the terrible mistake of ignoring them and not doing anything about them, thinking that it was just a phase which he would eventually grow out of. Little did I know that his 'things' were the beginning of a severe OCD which only escalated over the years and changed him from a gentle, loving and caring son into an extremely violent and angry young man who I no longer even recognised.
This new Peter was constantly swearing, threatening me with language that I never dreamed would have come out of my own son's mouth, and physically abusing me by punching me and kicking me. This new Peter had also developed a particular dislike for his father, and the more he despised his father, the more he took it out on me. As Peter continued to worsen, my husband and I both realised that we desperately needed to seek psychiatric help for our son, but we refrained from doing so for fear of the consequences that an official record of mental illness may have on Peter's future.
However, eventually Peter had deteriorated so badly that my husband and I both knew that we had no choice. Little did I know that seeking help would be the beginning of the end for me and my family because instead of a psychiatrist, all we got was social services, whose incompetence and inexperience only made things worse and ultimately tore my family apart.
However, throughout my adult life, every time I think that I have finally found happiness, it always gets shattered somehow. When my ten-year-old son, Peter, suddenly and unexpectedly developed patterns of very strange behaviours, I made the terrible mistake of ignoring them and not doing anything about them, thinking that it was just a phase which he would eventually grow out of. Little did I know that his 'things' were the beginning of a severe OCD which only escalated over the years and changed him from a gentle, loving and caring son into an extremely violent and angry young man who I no longer even recognised.
This new Peter was constantly swearing, threatening me with language that I never dreamed would have come out of my own son's mouth, and physically abusing me by punching me and kicking me. This new Peter had also developed a particular dislike for his father, and the more he despised his father, the more he took it out on me. As Peter continued to worsen, my husband and I both realised that we desperately needed to seek psychiatric help for our son, but we refrained from doing so for fear of the consequences that an official record of mental illness may have on Peter's future.
However, eventually Peter had deteriorated so badly that my husband and I both knew that we had no choice. Little did I know that seeking help would be the beginning of the end for me and my family because instead of a psychiatrist, all we got was social services, whose incompetence and inexperience only made things worse and ultimately tore my family apart.
