Anonymous Story #3

      So, I've been depressed since 7th grade. I remember exactly when it happened. I didn't feel like I amounted to anything at all. I was always helping people with their problems, slowly burying my own deeper and deeper. I didn't know how to deal with any of my problems, so I resorted to cutting. Of course I was only 12 years old, so I didn't know much about it or what I was doing. All I knew was that I should continue it. 

     By 8th grade things started getting worse. I had my first boyfriend who I felt very passionate about, and things were going great. But by the time we broke up I lost all control. I cut again. A lot. And the fact that most of my friends also self harmed, didn't make it any easier to stop. But things did start to get better, for awhile. 

     Then came along high school. Freshman year was pretty difficult for me, trying to figure out where I belong, who I fit in with, trying to make more friends. For awhile, I thought I had it pretty good. I had a boyfriend I thought I loved, my grades weren't too bad, family life was okay and I liked it like that. 

     But as soon as freshman year ended I broke up with my boyfriend for another boy, and the first day of summer I involved myself with this boy. He was my neighbor, and I'd known him for awhile. Throughout the summer, we liked each other. A LOT. Honestly, I didn't think I would ever want to be with anyone else. Before school started, he decided to ask me out. And we dated for a few months. Once again, everything was great. 

     Up until jealousy rolled along. He is probably one of the most stubborn people I will ever meet. He would get jealous of me hanging out, or just simply talking to other guys. This began to become too much for me to handle for me, so I decided to end things. I couldn't actually break up with him on the first time because he literally wouldn't let me. After this, we hated each other, but I thought I was fine with it. I wasn't. Things started to get bad again. I made more self-inflicted cuts. I stopped eating. My depression and anxiety violently worsened. By late November of Sophomore year, I had an eating disorder and bulimia, and I was anorexic. Not exactly what you'd think skin and bones, but I was barely 100 pounds. 

     My sister told my mom about the cuts on my arm. I started going to therapy, joining a group of girls just like me to discuss our problems, and seeing the school social worker weekly. It helped, but not really. Sometimes I'd be sad and not even know why. I would cry in bed for hours, most of the time to sleep. No one cared. No one even asked. 

     That's when I involved myself with drugs. I made a new friend group, who made me really happy. It started with drinking, progressively moving towards drugs. Then more alcohol, and harder drugs were being consumed. When I realized the only reason I was doing it was to escape from reality, that's when I knew it was a problem. But I didn't stop, I didn't want to stop. I could open up to people if I was drunk, or high. I could dance without caring what people thought of me if I was rolling. It made me feel better about myself. I involved myself with a boy from this friend group, who genuinely made me happy, although he's the ultimate druggie and I knew it wasn't the best idea, but I didn't care. I liked him so much, he made me forget all about my summer romance. But a few months passed, and this boy slowly stopped talking to me. And the depression was back again. Soon after, the boy who I'd broken up with came back. I thought he was what I needed. We started to have a thing again, and we liked each other. I didn't think it was anything serious, so I hooked up with someone else. bad decision, he found out, called me a whore along with many other names, and we haven't talked since. So once again, I got back with the one who slowly stopped talking to me, and to this day we sort of have a thing. But not really. I don't know how stupid I could be. I know I'm just a booty call for him, and that's not what I want. I want someone who loves me and is committed to me. I'm blinded by the happiness that I receive when I'm with him. Sometimes I don't know whether I want to kill myself, to take away all this pain and heart break that I have, or try to over come it. 

     They say things will get better, it hasn't. Not for four years. Not to mention my broken family, and how much I've been bullied. I'm scared to walk around my own neighborhood in fear that they'll come out and put me down. I've lost almost all of my friends. I don't know what to do with this cloud of depression that's above me. I know I'm not depression, depression is just something I experience, but I want it to just go away. Prescription pills don't work, drugs only work for a short period of time, so what do I do to become happy? To come out of this shell? When am I going to stop having panic attacks and break down every god damn day? I still do not know the answer to these questions, but I hope someday soon, I will.