Anonymous Story #24

        I’ve had self-destructive thoughts almost my whole life, as a child thinking about dying and thinking about hurting myself were just things I thought about sometimes. I never considered that that wasn’t normal, or that it was bad, I just thought that’s how everyone thought.
When I was in grade school I was in what would be called the loser fried group, there were the 5 of us, all the odd ones out of the popular kids. We pretended not to mind but inside each of us we all wanted what the popular kids had, friends and power. It isn’t like the kids outrightly bullied us but they avoided us, made fun of us, ignored us, wouldn’t play with us. The whole picked last for kickball thing, that was my childhood in a nutshell.
Jr. High is where I started taking my thoughts seriously, not just having them and moving on, but seriously contemplating suicide. That was when I self-harmed for the first time. 7th grade, I took a cookie sheet out of the oven, and on sheer impulse pressed my wrist against the burning metal and seared my skin. I loved it, I began to burn myself, with matches, lighters, even heated blades. Then I got caught by my parents and had my first bought with psychiatry. My fascination with death took a few months hiatus and it wasn’t until freshman year that the thoughts began to creep in again. Pieces of it were because I was watching my parents’ marriage crumble. I then swung into a deep codependency rut with my current boyfriend, codependency is something I still struggle with. He was my life, the reason I woke up in the morning for 2 years until he ended it. Then I felt I lost it, I had nothing left. I threw myself into an addiction of self-harm, self-destruction and marijuana. This continued to spiral out of control until one night I decided to try to end it. I took all of my anti-depressants and all of my sleeping pills and waited to die. I woke up in the hospital later that night and went in and out of consciousness for the next two days, physically I survived, but mentally I was dead. I spent the next week and a half at Linden Oaks Hospital recuperating. I defied all the rules, blatently disrespected the staff. I was on a rampage, I was manic and enraged. I hated every breath I took. I hated every damn visit from my estranged family members. Every moment I was alive hurt. Then, my psychiatrist finally found the right combination of medications, and I could breath. I laid in my room and cried for an hour before a staff came in and asked what was wrong. All I could say was that I felt “okay”. Not happy not suicidal not manic not angry, just okay. That day was probably the best I had felt in a long time.
I want to explain what my thoughts really are. They are voices, now I’m not schizophrenic so I don’t audibly HEAR voices. But the thoughts that I think, they speak to me like they are someone else. And they have a different voice then my own. 
“Gertrude” as my therapist affectionately dubbed them. The things they make me think about are self-defeating. In Gertrude’s eyes I am never good enough, I am always wrong.
I am the type of person who waits for shortcuts, I don’t want things to take the time they need. I want things to happen right away, right when I need them. Like getting better, I drive myself crazy making decisions that will make me better in the long run. But I always do what feels better in the moment. Even still, I’ve “tried” to get better, but really all I’ve done is a lot of thinking and a lot of lieing.
Even to this day I drive myself crazy, I know the right decision, the right path. I know what steps to take, I just won’t take them.
I’ve lived a fine life, my parents both love me, my sister loves me, I have a less then sane family sure but they all love me and care about me and each other. The common denominator in my equation is me, I’m the problem, I’m what needs to be fixed. I take it one day at a time, when I have suicidal thoughts I just breath through them, I rarely feed the fire anymore. I do the same with my self-harming thoughts. I don’t believe that they will ever go away one hundred percent, I’ll always have “Gertrude” whispering in my ear tales of sweet release. 
I’m still on the fence about whether or not I’d like to survive, but for right now in this very second I don’t want to try to die, so for now that will have to be enough.

Anonymous Story #23

In 2010 I was obese I always wanted to be skinny and I also liked a lot of boys, but none of them liked me. I thought it was cause I was fat and ugly. All my friends were skinner then me and I constantly felt so bad about myself. Then one day me and my friend baked cookies and we ate to much cookie dough and I felt so sick to my stomach. So I went running to the bathroom and kept trying to throw up cause I felt sick. Then I stocked my finger down my throat and puked it all up. Then a thought crossed my mind.... I thought "I just made myself throw up" and then I thought "I could do this after every meal. Feel full and lose weight" so I did.... So I did that for 2 years. I did lose a lot of weight people noticed. Guys actually liked me and I actually liked them, but the one guy I had the biggest crush on and I thought he'd like me after all that and he didn't. In fact he was into more bigger girls... Like his girlfriend. I was so hurt when I found out who his girlfriend was and that he had one. My goal was to lose weight and get the guy, but that didn't happen.

Then one day my Mom noticed how pale I was and how after every meal I'd run to the bathroom and try not to make it obvious. One day I was walking to her and I just tipped over to the side. I blacked out and my Mom was freaking out! She said "You have to go to the doctor" I said no I don't want to I'm fine and she said if it happens again she will take me. Then one day I was eating dinner and then of course after that I went to the bathroom, but this time I got caught. My Mom ran upstairs and said "Why are you throwing up!?" I just said "I'm sorry" "I have heard you do this multiple time, but I've never said anything. Clean up and come down stairs we're going to talk to Dad." So I did and basically they didn't really help. They just said I'm disappointed in you and kept threatening me to take me to the doctor. My dad said you're no longer going to throw up. You're going to eat you're food and keep it in your tummy.

The next day he had healthy meals planned out and everything. I was supposed to eat 1,200 cals everyday. That was way to much for me. So I made my own meal plan. Which contained 400-800 cals a day. I do not know how I did that cause that is not enough calories for me now. I still felt weak, light headed, shaky, and cold.

But of course I fell back into the Bulimia. I thought I'm starving and I can't eat; at least when I had it was never hungry. I lost more weight. Seemed like no matter how low the number was it was never low enough. The lowest I have ever weight is 103.2 pounds. This shocks me now. I can't believe I ever weighed that much. My Mom and Dad were both working so it was so easy to do it without anyone noticing.


Then one day I took this class and I met this wonderful guy. I was really shy to talk to him at first, but gradually over time we became really close, like brother and sister. I told him I was bulimic he has no clue what it was. He googled it and was so sad that I did something like that to myself everyday. He said is there anything I can do to help and I said just check on me every night and ask me if I have throwing up. From that day on he kept asking me if I was. He occasionally does now, but he knows I'm okay, Which I am. We're now a strong couple and his my rock and everything. If you do have any kind of eating disorder tell a close friend and ask them to check on you. It really helps. I could have not over come this horrible time period in my life without him.

I have been clear of Bulimia since August 2012. I do get thoughts of throwing up now and then but I just always say I can get through this. I am healthy as I ever was. I have a appropriate weight for my body and I no longer feel dizzy all the time, and I enjoy my food an appreciate it more and the people that surround me with such love and understanding.

Promiscuity

There are some people that are very sexual in nature. They may have sex a lot, they may flirt with people a lot, they may "mess around" a lot.

Who cares.

Let's say there's a girl in high school. She flirts with all the guys. She has sex all the time, sometimes with people that she doesn't know, sometimes with people she does know. Maybe she does it because she is insecure about herself and needs the physical expression of love to make her feel better. Maybe she does it because she wants to be cool, and think that doing that will get them where they want to be. Maybe she does it because she has daddy issues. Maybe she does is because she has other issues, maybe with her self esteem, maybe with self worth, maybe with something else. Maybe she does it because she just likes sex.

Who cares.

This is the life of guys and girls a like. For some reason girls get demonized, they are called sluts, whores, hoes and such. They get taken advantage of. Boys do as well, but girls are statistically more hurt because they are promiscuous.

Do what makes you happy. Don't judge what you don't understand. You don't know what other people are going through, you don't know what they are thinking or why they do what they do. Why should it matter what they do? As long as know one gets hurt, it shouldn't be a problem.

But if you are doing whatever you're doing because of some of the issues above, I would suggest seeing a therapist to get past some of those. Do what makes you happy. But make sure you're healthy as well.

Be safe. Be happy. You are loved.

Anonymous Story #22

So it all started freshman year. My best friend who is a year older had hung out with all the black kids at the school, so I wanted to hang out with them too.

Well they were awesome they didn't judge me for how I dressed or anything and I dressed weirdly. When 8th grade summer came along going into freshman year I started smoking weed and drinking a lot and hooking up with different guys.

They were all black of course and they all told me I was too skinny and I needed a bigger butt, so I started to binge eat for a long time to gain weight.

Well I was "perfect" when freshman year came along and more guys wanted me for themselves. One guy that I hooked up with told all of his friends that I sucked his dick and to this day they yell across the halls " Ooo, am I next"

It was terrible and I hated everyone calling me a slut and stuff but it made me feel good at that time. Anyways, I still had a lot of guys messaging me because they had heard that I sucked this guy's dick an they wanted in.

I didn't know that one guy wanted me for that, and I met up with him at the Darien fest because I thought we were going to get to know each other and smoke pot in his car. So horny teen me went with this shady guy to his car. 

He kept saying to "do him a favor" and I kept saying no . No. No I'm leaving. He grabbed me and pushed me down and grabbed my hair. He forced me to put my mouth on his thing. Iit was the most terrifying thing I have ever experienced.

When I realized this was happening I bit down and he let go and I ran as fast as I could away to find my friends. This is really disturbing but I got a throat infection a couple days later, it was nasty.

Well, then my "boyfriend" who had hooked up with other girls while we were going out got really angry and said it was my fault.

Whatever I was in love with him, so I stayed with him, I don't know why.

He would always harass me about how I wasn't fit and I should work out with him.

At the same time this kid at school bullied me everyday about what I wore and said I was ugly and fat.

I usually can ignore people who bully me but this guy really got into my head

I would cut out carbs then sweets and then I just stopped eating.

So I stopped eating and started excersizing ALOT i would excersize in school and after school to keep me busy from eating...my diet would be gatorade water mabey fruit one day and back to Gatorade

I lost a lot of weight I was 5 7" and 105 pounds, which is very unhealthy

Well I started to get really sick all the time and I couldn’t exercise because everything would hurt really badly

and I'm getting better slowly. I'm still under weight, but I feel fat every time I eat so I only eat a meal a day which is better.

 A couple months back I started to take adderal as a weight loss pill because you don't get hungry.

Once I wore those shinny skin tight high waisted pants. At that time I hadn't eaten for 4 days because I was taking adderal and I didn't get hungry

I realize what I'm doing to my body but I hate not controlling myself.

Anonymous Story #21

      Well..I first noticed that there was something wrong in seventh grade. I was 13. Looking back, I can’t really determine what triggered it.. “It” being whatever my mental issues were/are...But, I just remember spending time with friends, and suddenly, I didn’t enjoy it anymore. They’d all be laughing, having the time of their lives, but for me that wasn’t the case. It was as if it hurt to smile, as if I was unable to have fun doing pretty much anything anymore. So I guess you could say I was sad in seventh grade. But that was just the beginning.

As my sadness grew in intensity and frequency, the distance between my friends and me grew as well. I had to learn the hard way that friends could only be so supportive. They grew tired of me being down and bringing the group down, and our friendship as a whole slowly began to deteriorate. I learned the hard way that friends don’t want to spend time with someone like me, who was, at this point, drowning in depression. So, one by one, my friends gradually slipped from my reach, and I felt more alone than ever, worsening the sadness that was already upon me.

In the fall of eighth grade, still age 13, I had let myself fall into an even darker hole of despair. On November 23, 2010, I cut myself for the first time. Overwhelmed in sadness, isolation, confusion, stress, loneliness, despair, and just about any other form of negativity you could imagine. I just wanted relief. I wanted my pain to matter. It was as if I wanted to prove how significant my pain was..so maybe when I ever spoke about it, people wouldn’t think I was just complaining or being dramatic..it would prove that I honestly had just lost control and the ability to be happy or even just pretend to be happy for more than a couple of minutes. Why did I really cut, though? Truthfully, I wanted to kill myself, but was too afraid to actually attempt it, and I guess, cutting was just the closest thing I could do without going that far. Of course though, my cuts would remain as secret as I could keep them.

By my 14^th birthday, I had let my pain consume me. There wasn’t a day where I hadn’t cried, I was still cutting, and constantly contemplating suicide. I couldn’t escape it. I’d try to think of something else, but I had always found flaws with life and everything in it, which never failed to lead me down the same dark road of torturous thoughts of how meaningless I was in this world and how meaningless life itself was if all there was to experience was pain. But at this point, I was no longer hurting myself, I had also done something to hurt one of my few remaining friends..

It was one of my guy friends. He was nice and easy to manipulate. I felt so worthless, and I really just wanted someone to tell me otherwise. I wanted someone to choose me over anyone else, to matter more to one person than anyone else, to be loved and cared about despite my inability to have fun anymore. So, I had got him to ask me out. He knew about me cutting, and told me I never needed to feel so bad anymore because he cared about me so much. He even told me he loved me, and I had said it back, even though I didn’t. To be honest, I didn’t have any real feelings for him at all except for the love of a good friend. I still lied and used him, and I hated myself even more for doing it.

I cut again one day, doing more damage than I usually would. He noticed. I promised him that was the end of the cutting, and of course, I wanted it stop, but I actually felt like trying to stop and turn things around this time. That Christmas I had gotten all three existing Strokes CDs at the time. I had always listened to and loved music, but when I started to listen to the Strokes more in depth, something came over me. It somehow shed some light on my pathetic situation, and I’d get chills just from listening to it. For once, life had meaning and something was good, and for that, I’m forever grateful. And to this day, I am in love with the Strokes for not only their beautiful music, but for what they stand for, their deeper meanings behind their songs, the empowering feeling they gave me, and especially for, in a way, saving my life. So with this motivation, when I promised my boyfriend of the time that I’d stop cutting, I really meant that I’d try to stop with every last strength I had inside me.

Apparently, he didn’t believe me. He had a close bond with the former band teacher from my middle school and had talked to her about my personal problems. She then reported me to the school counselor, who I never really spoke to. She pulled me out of English class one day and sat me down in her office. She forced me to pull up my sleeves and show her my cuts. I had never felt so insecure in my life. I didn’t know this lady, and I was forced to reveal my deepest inner and outer pain. She told me that if I didn’t come clean and tell my mom, then she would. So that night, I basically bawled my eyes out telling my mom that her youngest daughter had been cutting herself for months now. She was scared. She wanted to take me to a therapist and get me checked out. I said no. And to this day, I remain undiagnosed of any mental condition. After this talk, my mom was always cautious around me, looked at me differently, and I felt like an outsider even in my own home. One of my only joys was locking myself in my room and listening to the Strokes, but my mom wouldn’t allow that either, in fear that with privacy, I’d cut more.

Needless to say, I still wasn’t happy, and because of the even more drama that had just occurred, I broke up with my boyfriend for revealing my private problems to someone that I didn’t trust. Over the rest of the school year, I was still sad, and basically all I could do was listen to music to numb the pain as best as I could and attempt to retrain my brain not to completely shut down every time my life took a turn for the worst. Sometimes when I think about it now, I don’t know how I got through it. That period in my life was a blur. But, hey, I’m alive now, aren’t I?

I started high school that summer with the mindset of starting fresh, like I’m sure most kids do, but mine was more focused on just being “okay” and not giving up on myself. I had promised myself that I’d never let myself get as bad as I was again. First semester was alright; it was dull and meaningless, but it wasn’t filled with that much depression. Then, in February of 2012, I began talking to this guy, and before I knew it, we were dating. When I had first gone out with him, I said to myself, “I’ll give it a month or two.” Boy, was I wrong. I had fallen in love. We had fallen in love. And neither of us had ever suspected that it would happen. I remember just being held, looking into his eyes, and just completely losing myself to all the happiness and love that surrounded me. I knew I was set. I remember realizing that this was what life was all about: living to find someone that you could be with anywhere and feel totally happy, regardless of anyone or anything else bad in the world. And I had it. We’d dream together of the future and always talked about just running off to some place where no one else could find us, and we would just be, in love and together. And for nine months, I was the happiest I’d ever been.

But all great things must come to an end, right? At least that’s been a reoccurring pattern in my life..He had changed into some guy I couldn’t even describe. The break up had been ugly, but because he was such a big part of my life, I figured having him in my life as a friend or just as someone to talk to would be better than not having him at all. But of course, that also fell apart. He threw it all aside, and started dating one of my friends exactly two weeks later. And so, I fell again..really really hard and really really fast. But because I still made that promise to myself, I still refrained from cutting. It’s strange, I was even more depressed following the break up than I ever was in eighth grade, yet somehow I managed to stay away from self harm. I cried for months and months. Even still, I sometimes have bad days. But being so depressed gave me a giant opportunity to reflect on myself and on life in general. The whole experience of not only losing my boyfriend, but also my best friend, and practically my whole life (because he was the one thing that I loved most in this world), tore me down to completely nothing. A lot of people ask me, “if he hurt you so bad, are you sure he even loved you at all?” Yes. I’m positive. Even if he denies it now and acts like I’m nothing, I know that there was a time when we’re equally in love and devoted to one another..and that’s why it hurts so bad, because I knew it was real, and somehow, things just fell apart. But as happy as I was with him being in love, I realize that he was really my only source of happiness. I had such a hard time simply functioning after the break up because I had been so dependent on him for happiness. This will sound very negative and hopeless, but I’ve learned that everyone in life will let you down. It’s amazing to lose yourself in love, but I’ve learned not to be surprised when people don’t quite match the expectations that you’ve set for them. So, instead of depending on him or any guy for happiness, I will depend on myself. I have this sense of determination to fix any other aspect of my life that I can handle myself in order to be happy. I know I can’t let myself down, unless I relapse again.

It’s been almost six months since the break up, and I’ve grown so much as a person. I have changed..but for the better. I’ve faced so many of my inner demons lately, and I realize that even with apologies or trying to make sense of why I’ve experienced so much pain, nothing will change. The damage has already been done, and all you can do with the past is accept it. So many people say to forget the past..but that’s the last thing I want to do. With my last boyfriend who I was so in love with, despite on the ugly ending, I wouldn’t throw away those memories for anything because even though it ended, it’s nice to know and remember that I have known true happiness at some point in my life. It gives me hope that I’ll find even something better. And with all of my dark past, it’s just a reminder of how far I’ve come and how thankful I am that I was able to get to a better place. However, my mind is very contradictory. Yes, I feel a lot better than I used to, I’ve grown a lot, and I have hope and determination to achieve a positive future. But, I do have a very bad habit of still slipping into a negative mindset. The frequency is much less, but they still exist. Somehow, little problems will eat away at me and I’ll get sad and it will all somehow relate to my previous problems that I thought I had already gotten over..this will happen about once or twice a week. But, the intensity is way down, and it’s less frequent than the days where I feel positive or at least okay.

If there’s anything you take away from my story I hope that it’s that: 1. Even if you aren’t medically diagnosed with a mental illness, that doesn’t mean that your pain isn’t real and isn’t significant. 2. Never underestimate the power of music. 3. You don’t need to depend on anyone else for happiness because when it comes to people, nothing is guaranteed to be more than temporary. 4. (And this is the most important) You aren’t alone. I hope you could relate to even one aspect of my story, then know things may take a long time to get better, and when they do, they won’t be perfect, but you have the power to change your destiny and make your future brighter. You have the strength, and you are the only person with the ability to truly make your life better. I still struggle everyday to keep in mind to make sure I don’t let other people impact me in such a negative way and to remember that I’m important to this world. Life doesn’t last forever, but I’m determined to make the most of my time while I’m here. It’s not just about getting by and surviving through each day anymore; I want to really experience life while I’m alive. My goal in life is simply to be happy. How I’m going to get there, well, that I have no clue about. But I know I’ll get there. And you will too. Just give yourself a chance because you’re worth more than just the pain you feel.  You’ve been given a chance simply by being alive; you can go far, and you’ll be so proud once you get there..I know I will be too! We’re only given as much as we can handle. All this pain, is just another detail in the story of our lives. Don’t let it define you; let it be a reason for you to try just that much harder. We all have so much to live for. This is just the beginning.

Asexuality

So here's the thing. Some people are honestly not sexually attracted to anyone, regardless of gender. It just doesn't happen for them. And that's okay. Just like it's okay for people to be attracted to people of the same gender or to people of different genders and everything in between, it is okay not to be attracted to anyone sexually.

There are people who are asexual who are romantically attracted to people. They may be in a relationship. They are just completely indifferent to having sex. No, they're not "prudes." They are honestly just not interested. They still have the physical capacity to have sex, they just don't want to. There is nothing wrong with that. It is their own preference.

Maybe this perfectly describes you. Maybe this is exactly the opposite of you. Who cares? Do what makes you happy.

Anonymous Story #20

        The summer of 2009 I started losing weight. I wasn't even aware of how skinny I was until my dad told me how bony I looked. I did NoT have an eating disorder. July 25th I was brought to Edwards hospital for labs showing my blood sugar was in the 500's... It's suppose to be under 120... My pancreas had stopped working and I became a type 1 diabetic. From that moment on my eating, exercise, and life became increasingly more difficult. I began to eat more food when my blood level would drop to low and as months passed and my body went through changes so did my insulin rates. I always felt sick and tired and on top of that I was gaining so much weight. It was at high school when I really started caring and paying attention to what I was eating. I progressively got worse and would even go to the gym twice in one day. I was a exercis-o-holic! Then I would use a calorie counter to subtract everything I ate and when I didn't break even with calories or I felt like I ate to much I would self harm with rage. I was so upset that I wasn't even losing weight and it became my obsession. I continued to count calories but the worse I felt about myself the more more I wanted to stop eating. One night after eating a huge meal I was way above calories so I went for a jog but after I felt so sick that I threw up. A lightbulb had gone off in my head and I thought that instead of starving myself I could still eat but then throw it all up later. This terrible eating cycle was partially recognized by my parents and I was so depressed and isolated from all of my friends I ended up cracking after a terrible relapse and then they helped me make the first steps toward recovery.

Anonymous Story #19

1.       When I enter freshman year, I never thought in a million years that I would be stalked and bullied by one of my friends. I'm a good student, and I participate in a lot of clubs. I meet a guy through a club that I'm in, and we became great friends. A little while later, we got really close over the summer and texted a lot. He told me he's suicidal, and I offered to help in anyway possible. But, over the summer he got worse, aggressive, violent, just scary towards me and any attempt I tried to help him. Eventually at the beginning of the next year I told a teacher to try to get him help, and I though he was getting better. When he came back to school, he shoved me against lockers, verbally abused me, threatened me, and bullied me. He started a face book page about me and posted terrible things. His abuse led to my self harm. I try not to think about the things he said, how he constantly made me feel worthless, how he crushed myself esteem, but that's the thing about your head. Once those thoughts are in, they feel like they won't ever get out.

Anonymous Story #18

        So over spring break my sister and I were folding laundry and we were joking around, having fun poking fun at each other, whatever. everything was fine. But then my sister says something like, well at least no one thinks I'm a lesbian. And I was like what? And then she said, "Yeah someone asked me if you were a lesbian." And I was like no, no one did. And she was like yeah someone asked me if you were a lesbian. And as soon as she told me that with her serious I'm-not-joking-face I immediately ran upstairs to the bathroom shut the door and cried for an hour. I was so embarrassed and I didn't want to ever show my face again. I never wanted to go to school because obviously, people thought I was a lesbian and I am not. I've never felt like that. I have had boyfriends. But just the thought that someone thought I was a lesbian really got to me. And I wondered if it was the way I look, or the way I dressed, or what I did. I wanted to know what it was that made them say that. So I was really upset and embarrassed for a few weeks. But now that its over, I'm over it. And its made me think that I really don't give a crap about what others think of me. Obviously, they don't know me well enough and aren't a real friend to me if they thought that of me. Since I'm graduating soon, I cant wait to never have to go to the extremely judgmental school we go to. And I'm excited to have a new start to my life with new people I meet and my best friends that I'm going to keep forever.

Anonymous Story #17

        I’ve been really depressed for a while, and used to self injure a lot. I once tried to commit suicide and my parents thought it was just for attention. I really didn’t get the help I needed or deserved, because I know I’m an amazing person who deserves that help. So far, I haven’t really gotten it. I got mixed up in drugs to try and numb the pain I feel in my life, but I know they’ll eventually cause some problems for me. I worry that someday the drugs will stop helping and I’ll be left without anything. I’m going away to college soon and I don’t know exactly how I’ll deal there. I hope I’ll be okay. But right now, I’m not depressed. Even though I’m on drugs, and I still know it’s a problem, I still am happy right now. I have a boyfriend that I love, I’m finally in a good relationship with someone. I’m not depressed anymore, at least now. 

Anonymous Story #16

        As I sit across from her, I stare at her pen scribbling across her notepad. She leans forward and stares me in the eyes. She asks, “Why?” I’ve been going to therapy for less than a year. At most a couple of months. It’s not like I was expecting some miracle, but I had been expecting it to at least help a little. I had to make the call myself. My parents were blind to my problems. I tried to comfort myself by convincing myself that at least they were paying for my therapy, which meant that they had to at least care a little…right? That’s what I hoped. But, I knew deep down that they didn’t. Who was I kidding? I was nothing to them, just like how I was nothing to my “friends” in middle school. That’s when it all began. In middle school, I had a group of friends who I loved. I had been close to each one of them for some period of time. These were my closest friends, they were like my sisters. I had a close friend outside of school, L fed me a bunch of bs. But, I still believed L. I had also made new friends at school, and I got closer to them as I felt the coldness from my original group of friends. I could feel their judging looks every time I wasn’t looking and their venomous whispers every time I turned my back. One day they tell me that I made up my friend, L. They criticized me for not studying enough and for spending time with my new friends more than them. It hurt. A lot. That was the first day I went on the web and searched up ways to inflict self harm. And, that was the first day I placed a knife on my bare skin. Not a butter knife, a vegetable knife. It was cold, it sent a chill through me. I placed the knife on my skin, and I watched as blood dripped down as I drew my knife across my skin. I was smart, I left it somewhere nobody can see. That’s when I started cutting myself daily. I couldn’t stop it. I needed to feel something, anything. But, I needed something that would last longer, something that would slowly and gradually increase the pain until it was almost excruciatingly unbearable. So I started to use dull razors, pushing hard against my skin, rubbing it back and forth. Slowly at first then faster and faster, feeling the dull blade tear against my skin, ripping it open. Feeling the thick blood crawling down my skin. They apologized, and I forgave. I shouldn’t have. Everybody started ganging up on one person at a time. I was a part of that, I shouldn’t have been. I was mean and cruel, my cutting gradually lessened. I’ve wished so many times that I could apologize to the people that I was harsh too. I will one day, when I find the strength and courage too. Then, one day, the judgments were placed back on me again and one of my other friends, B. We found a chat that they had thought they set on private. Again, criticizing me. They said that my tears were fake, called me a liar. They said that I was turning B against them. All I was doing was trying to be there for her. I started cutting even more, it was worse than before. I couldn’t stop it. B forgave them, and then turned her back on me and started whispering about me as well. That hurt like hell. I was there for her, always. I didn’t understand how she could possibly just turn on me. I considered transferring to another school. Start fresh. They found out, and one of them called me a bitch. I was ready to end my life. I figured since I had already hit rock bottom, I might as well just give up. I had a death note and everything ready. Razors, knife, pills. I didn’t want to live anymore. I was nothing. Therapy is an escape from reality. It gives me one full hour to clear my head. But, the scars will always be on my body, and the new and fresh cuts won’t have end to them, for now.

Inspiration

We have choices to make everyday, sometimes other people choose them. And sometimes we choose them. But the choices we can make, are the ones that define us. So you have a problem. Maybe you cut, or restrict, or binge, or drink. So what? That does not make you a bad person, that does not make you a worthless. Maybe you put on a smile at school, but cry all night long. Maybe you only wear long sleeves, to cover the scars on your arms. Maybe you play loud music or run the shower so no one can hear you in the bathroom. Maybe you sit at night thinking who would miss you if you were gone, and instead of focusing on the people who would, you look for the one person who wouldn't. Maybe you become scared of the thoughts that go through your head late at night. But maybe, just maybe you start hope for better days. See, these are all maybes. Nothing is set in stone, and Nothing is here forever. What you go through now, will always be a part of you but that doesn't mean you have to make it a part of your future. You can't let it control you, you are you and you are the only one who can take control. You don't need bitches that only want to tear you down, you don't need boys who only want to use you, you don't need the parents who see nothing. You need the people who will stay by your side no matter what. It doesn't matter if its 5 or if its 50000. Your true friends will be there no matter what. And know, that ever minute that I see you are here fighting makes me want fight harder for myself. Fighting, doesn't effect only you, it effects everyone around you. Strength and courage that you show, continue to spread to your friends. And the hardest thing of all, Trust. Trust yourself, even when you have every reason not to. Tell yourself you trust yourself, and soon one day you will believe it. Tell yourself it will get better, and one day it will. Tell yourself you will not give up, and one day you'll not need to tell yourself anymore. You'll just know. You have no idea how much you mean to me, and so many other people. I just can wait for the day when you can love yourself as much as we love you.

Anonymous Story #15

Anyone out there may be suffering.  I don’t wish to seek pity out of this, but rather inform and hopefully inspire some to get help.

It all began years ago in junior high, and maybe even earlier.  I’m currently a junior in high school, so these issues have been hanging over me for years.  I recently sought out help.  If anything is bothering you now, please seek help.  It could save your life like it saved mine.

Like I said, it began around in junior high.  I was attending a new school in 6th grade.  At the beginning of the year, my grandma died, and then a few months later, my great-grandpa passed.  I spiraled down into a deep depression.  I didn’t have a lot of friends and the few “friends” that I had ridiculed me and didn’t treat me well.  I was constantly bullied for trying to hang out with the popular kids.  I got called names like “gay” and “faggot” and it always bothered me.

In 7th grade, the depression only got worse as I had lost all of my friends.  I began having suicidal tendencies.  I was still getting bullied and I couldn’t stand it any longer.  On top of all of this, many people in my town had been committing suicide.  There was about 3 or 4 suicides that year.  For a town of just under 8,000, that’s quite a few.  I contemplated it every single day.  I don’t know what held me back.  I got involved with the school’s academic team.  Even there I didn’t feel accepted.  People called me a “nerd” for knowing too much and the older kids told me that all us 7th graders were not going to do well next year without them.  They told us we couldn’t win the big tournament at the end of the season.  I felt worthless.  The kids at my lunch table always bullied me and told me to “go away” and that “nobody likes you.”  I believed them after a while.  I tried track and fitting in with those kids.  These were the same popular kids that I had convinced myself that I should be friends with.  I was slow and I always got called “fat” and felt like a total loser.

The next year, I was still struggling with depression and suicidal tendencies, but it had died down a little bit.  The bullying was still there.  It got so bad that I got punched in the face when I had braces and my mouth bled for an entire day.  I also struggled with anorexia briefly in 8th grade.  I refused to eat lunch, because the kids at my table just made fun of me the entire time.  I didn’t feel worthy.  I had found a few friends that accepted me more than the popular kids, although I still tried doing track again.  These kids were on the academic team also and we proved the previous 8th graders wrong when we won that tournament that they said we couldn’t.

“Don’t ever let someone tell you that you can’t do something.  Not even me.  You got a dream, you gotta protect it.  When people can’t do something themselves, they’re gonna tell you that you can’t do it.  You want something, go get it.  Period.”

-Will Smith (The Pursuit of Happyness)

The summer between 8th grade and freshman was a disaster.  My “girlfriend” broke up with me.  It was hardly a relationship.  We held hands once or twice and never hung out.  I wasn’t able to talk with my actual friends from junior high either.  So, I tried hanging out with the popular kids again.  I decided to do football, which was one of the biggest mistakes of my life.  I made it through all of the summer practices except the last one, when I got tackled by a huge junior lineman.  My back was thrown out and I could not function.  I had to quit football.

Fast-forward a couple of weeks, and we entire high school.  The kids who played football gave me so much crap for quitting.  They would walk by me in the halls and call me out.  They’d scream in my face “quitter.”  Even some of the coaches, who were teachers, did the same.  My depression slowly got worse again.  I was in band all through junior high, but high school band was so much different.  I made several new friends that were a couple years older than me and I started a separate band with them.  We weren’t very good and we only played a couple of shows.  We had a great time. I also played tennis and made quite a few friends there too.  All throughout freshman year, I had several different crushes.  Every time I asked one out, they would say “no.”  Rejection became a normal thing, and I didn’t think much of it.  I was rejected to my freshman homecoming and by 3 other girls.  I also got used by a senior girl from another school.  She would pick me up after school and always wanted me to make-out with her.  I hated it.  I felt like trash.

The summer between freshman and sophomore year was good, so I thought.  My best-friend had broken up with her boyfriend of a year or so and was onto me.  We were constantly together.  I thought this was going to work out.  I was proven wrong when she said “yes” to some other guy the first day of school.  I cried for days; I even climbed on top of building and almost jumped.  My depression was back.  Another “no.”

Sophomore year, my older friends started blowing me off.  They were all seniors now.  My band teacher also bullied me more it seemed like.  The same thing happened with girls.  I did take a really close friend to homecoming though.  But still, more rejection.  At the end of the school year, I started seeing this one girl.  We became really close and started going on dates.

All summer long, I was with this girl off and on.  She was one of the most genuine people I had ever liked.  I asked her to my junior homecoming, and she said “yes.”  I felt encouraged to ask her out.  One night, I came to her house, dressed really nice and with flowers.  I pulled up and texted her to come outside.  Her entire family ran to the windows to watch what was going on.  She came out in her pajamas and I handed her the flowers and popped the question.  Do I even need to say what happened?  Another “no.”

I was legitimately heartbroken.  I thought to myself, “there must me something wrong with me.”  I decided that maybe it was the way I looked.  I made myself a deal to get in shape.  Not only to improve the way I looked, but to hang out with my friends who were in sports.  This was a huge mistake.  This was when it all spiraled downhill again in August of 2012.  This wasn't a choice to have an eating disorder, depression, and anxiety.  It all started as wanting to change a little bit to feel more accepted or find some sort of happiness.

WARNING: THIS MAY BE VERY TRIGGERING. PLEASE SKIP IF YOU FEEL LIKE YOU MIGHT EVEN BE SLIGHTLY TRIGGERED.

Junior year started.  I had gained a lot of weight from my football injury several years ago.  I decided to work out and maybe lose a couple pounds.  I started at 200, but I didn’t look like it is what many people said.  I started running a little bit in August and September.  By the end of September I began only eating a banana for breakfast.  I shed 20 pounds like it was nothing.  I thought “wow, I feel incredible.”  No one had noticed though.  I felt like I should keep going.

In October, I dropped another 10 pounds from running and restricting more.  I cut out breakfast entirely and began restricting on lunch.  My friends kept complementing me on how I looked and I loved it.  It only encouraged me to keep going.  From here on out, it got extremely ugly.

By November, I wasn’t eating breakfast or lunch.  I began a huge obsession with caffeine.  I drank coffee and green tea all day.  I also filled up on water.  I was running close to 50 miles a week all of November.  I thought I was on top of the world.  I also started seeing a girl, but my self-confidence was so low that I couldn’t bring myself to ask her out.  I just expected her to say “no” even though all of her friends kept telling me that I should just ask because she liked me a lot.  I missed my chance with a gorgeous girl with an incredible personality.

I had a chance to end it all here and stop it while it was easily fixable.  One of my friends, who had struggled with anorexia, realized what was going on and had told my mom.  I denied that any of this was happening and kept on in my ways.  I didn't think I had a problem.

In December, I was still running and restricting.  I began making excuses to skip dinner sometimes.  I lied to my family every single day.  I told my mom that I ate lunch.  I told my dad that I’d grab something was out and about.  I also made up this lame excuse for my running.  I told my parents that I wanted to do track.  They let me run whenever I wanted to.  Sometimes I would get up at four in the morning and run.  Sometimes I would run two or three times a day.  I thought I was in great shape.  I ended up stress-fracturing a growth plate in my left foot.  I also overstretched two tendons and bruised a muscle and two bones in my foot.  I had to get a boot to stabilize my entire foot and lower half of my leg.  I hit rock bottom, so I thought.

By the beginning of January, I had lost a quarter of my body weight.  My friends kept on complementing me.  The voice inside my head kept telling me to keep going.  I started running secretly on my broken foot.  I was obsessed with exercise.  I started going days without eating.  I didn’t even eat on my birthday.  I was becoming more depressed also.  I felt like I couldn’t do enough to make myself feel better.

I was already researching calories and body mass index online, but I had come across a new idea: laxatives.  I went to a local gas station and bought something.  Every time I took them, I thought that it brought on happiness.  I didn’t know what was wrong with me.  I also went a week and a half without eating.  I was self-injuring too and contemplating suicide.  After a failed suicide attempt, passing a kidney stone, and passing out in the school’s bathroom within the matter of a week, I knew something was wrong.  I had to get help.

This was rock bottom.  I weighed a mere 130 pounds.  That seems like a lot to some people, but I’m a male that is 6’ 2” tall.  I sought help from my friends that had said something to my mom and they convinced me to tell my parents.  I was officially diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, social anxiety, and generalized depression.  I got help and entered treatment on March 6, 2013.  It literally saved my life.

THIS IS NO LONGER TRIGGERING

And this was all for some sort of happiness I thought I would find.  I thought I would gain so much out of just changing a little bit.  Instead, I lost all sense of security.  I lost trust.  I lost friends.  I lost any sort of actual happiness that I had.

I’ve realized that I have so much to live for.  I have incredible friends that have helped me get through this.  Don’t get me wrong, I still struggle every single day.  But without struggle, there is no progress.  I’ve realized that none of the stuff I previously mentioned even matters.  I thought I was happy.  I was so wrong.  Life is so much better when you don’t have to worry about calories in food or making excuses to exercise and being tired all of the time.  I have so much more energy now.

As far as being a perfectionist, I can’t help that.  I have realized through treatment that there is a huge difference between being a perfectionist and striving for perfectionism.  I’ve been trying the latter more often now and it has been working out much better than before.

Music keeps me going.  I’ve realized that I potentially have a future that I will enjoy.  I’ve played piano for 14 years, guitar for six years, and drums for four years.  I enjoy it.  I found happiness in life.  I’m currently in a new band and I love every minute of it.

Don’t suffer through this same misery that I have been through.  There is hope.  Life is so much better without any of this hanging over you.  Realize that you are loved.  Realize that you have something to live for.  You have friends.  You have people that care about you.  You have the ability to many great things.

LOVE YOURSELF 

Anonymous Story #14

        So it all started when I ended up experimenting with my best friend at the time. She was so much more open about everything then I was. 
It was right after we went to get her nose pierced and we went out to eat to celebrate, that I told her that I knew I was bisexual. She gave me this look and said "Well no shit Miriam." and that was that.
Fast forward to this winter. I told my therapist in September that I was going to give myself a time limit of my birthday to come out to my parents. I started off slowly, coming out to strangers, my brothers friends, my friends, my boyfriend at the time, and then my brother. I got practically the same response from all of them, with some variations of "that's so sexy" or "well you could have told me this before I found a girlfriend" but overall, everyone was really excepting.
Then came my parents. Two weeks before my birthday, we were talking about our trip to Vegas when I was like 8 or something, and how I used to pick up playing cards of naked women to collect. My parents were laughing about how it seemed like at that age I liked girls. So I spoke up and said "Would that necessarily be a bad thing?" They looked at each other and said of course not. And then my mom goes and tells me she has known for a while, she just wanted me to come out to her.

Perks of Being a Wallflower Truths

“I think that if I ever have kids, and they are upset, I won't tell them that people are starving in China or anything like that because it wouldn't change the fact that they were upset. And even if somebody else has it much worse, that doesn't really change the fact that you have what you have.” 
― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks Of Being A Wallflower

“I just need to know that someone out there listens and understands and doesn't try to sleep with someone even if they could have. I need to know these people exist.” 
― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

“You can't just sit there and put everyone's lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love. You just can't. You have to do things.” 
― Stephen Chbosky

“...people who try to control situations all the time are afraid that if they don't, nothing will work out the way they want.” 
― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower