Breaking the Silence: Unveiling the Hidden Truth

Many start their story with the beginning as the story often have a start. My story, however, doesn’t have a beginning. Or at least I don’t remember how it started. Like many others, I was born to a mum and dad who greatly loved each other. I was their firstborn, the big project for a big and happy family. So, let’s try to start the story there. My name is Kirsten Dale, and this is the tale of my life. I will warn you, if you’re looking for a joyful story with many upbeat thoughts, stop reading. This is the true story of what happened to me, a secret story I’ve kept for many years. I thought I would never tell it to anybody, that I would take it to my grave. But now I’m ready to tell my story; I won’t keep it a secret anymore. It’s time to unveil the hidden truth and break the silence. For clearance, in this first chapter, I will structure my story and develop a timeline. If my account needs clarification, you can look back here to see when this happened. Many of my memories are scattered, I remember everything that happened, but I have problems putting it in a time frame. It’s like when you have many similar memories, and they all get scrambled together. You remember what happened, but separating them into different events is difficult since they are identical. If you'd like to skip ahead to the good parts in the other chapters, feel free to do that. Please feel free to return to the intro chapter if you need to. If you have any questions, please leave comments and reviews. I want to improve my story and make it straightforward. I appreciate all the help I can get to make my writing better to comprehend. I was born in the early 1990s in a wealthy country with free health care. I have three younger siblings, and we had many animals growing up. We lived in a little town until I started school at six years old, then we moved in with my grandmother on my dad’s side and stayed there until I was 13. Our parents divorced when I was 11/12. My father got a new girlfriend that moved in with us when we moved out from my grandma’s house. Our parents had spent years building a new house, but my mum never got to live there. We lived in a caravan for a few months until we could move into the house. Around 17 years old, I escaped from home and lived part-time with my abusive mother and part-time with my abusive boyfriend. I struggled a lot, trying to escape my life, but I had nowhere to go. I started a couple of boarding schools and only being home on vacations and public holidays when the school was closed. I coped with depression, suicidal thoughts and exhaustion; I had problems sleeping and only slept every other night. I had struggled with this for most of my life, but it had become a bigger problem in the last few years. My body and mind were drained. I went to therapy, but that didn’t do anything. I had no friends and strived with getting to connect with others. Everybody got scared when I tried to talk with them about what was happening. They found me too negative and challenging to be with, so I was isolated and trapped with all my thoughts and feelings. Until this point, I had been too scared to die, but now, I was too afraid to live. I drank a lot to escape my mind and blackout for a while. This was the only way for me to flee my mind. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with me, so that they couldn’t prescribe anything for me. They found something later, though, so now I live an everyday life. At 20 years old, I moved to the capital with somebody I met. My life changed after that. I had a place to stay, so I didn’t need to return to my parents. I finally had time to heal, and I had someone to talk to that listen. I realised my drinking problems and stopped. I think my body was worn out after years of being put to the breaking point, so at this point in my life, I got a new sleeping problem. I started to sleep for long periods without feeling rested. It became stable after a while, with me sleeping for 17 hours in the winter and every other day in the summer. My relationship didn’t last, but I got better. I tried one last time to commit suicide after the relationship ended. Not because I was depressed, but because I was so scared that I would return to where I was. I was stopped this time by coincidence and helped through the breakup. I changed doctors again and took more tests. This time the doctor found the problem. My brain won’t produce melatonin at a standard rate; therefore, it takes longer time for me to get tired. I got medications to stimulate the brain to produce melatonin, and I started to fall asleep every night. I was also described vitamin D in the winter, but that didn’t do anything. I found the solution myself 7/8 years later. Ten minutes weekly in a solarium, I only slept 8-10 hours instead of 17. I stayed in the capital and used my time to find myself. About 2-3 years after I met my now husband, I found a solution to my problem of sleeping too much and took a bachelor’s degree. I now sleep 8-10 hours daily and have a full-time job. I had a minor setback under Corona; I got it at work and struggled with long-covid for 1,5 years before returning to work. I have now started my master's degree. And now, as you have a timeline for my life, I want to start sharing my secrets with you. This will not be in a timeline but instead categorised so you can get a complete picture of the situation.