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.