I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t feeling sad.
I hope I haven’t always been, but ever since I was little I used to think there was always something telling me I was worthless and ugly; I thought my brain was broken. When I grew up my brother was going through a hard time and he took it out on me by hitting me very hard. He would call me fat, ugly, worthless, terrible; it shaped how I still think of myself to this day. Since he was seven years older than me and I was very young it affected me badly.
My mother and father would ignore me when I was angry or upset. I became older and it seemed like the world was crashing down on me. I hated my life so badly but I also hated that I was ungrateful; I knew others were in worst positions than me so I shoved my feelings down. Occasionally I would just lie on my floor, barely able to breathe, so angry and miserable that I would cry for long periods of time, staring in the mirror and hating myself.
I remember when I started to self harm; the way it stung right before it bled made me feel better. It was like I was releasing pain from my body. When my mother found out about it she hit me and screamed. I started to cut myself around my ribs and on my side to hide the marks, I couldn’t stop.
During this time, I made a lot of friends who made me behave badly. I started to become very sexual, thinking that if boys wanted me it meant I was beautiful. I was too young to think like this, but my best friend was doing it, so I decided to. I did things I regret so much that I still stay up thinking about them. I worry that more people will find out, and I actually fear that I will be in a lot of trouble, not just with my family.
Somehow I felt like someone was taking over my body and making me hate myself and helping me make bad decisions. I started therapy and I hated it, at first. I felt too vulnerable, like I wasn’t strong and I was so mentally unstable that I deserved to be in an institution. I realize I was wrong now, I was very strong. I cried a lot and got very angry at myself when I did, I learned later that this was because my parents have shamed me for crying growing up. My therapist seemed threatening to me and I never fully got comfortable. The lowest point was when I wrote suicide notes.
I thought that I was meant to be the girl who killed herself, I didn’t think I had a future.
I started to take medicine for my depression and it helped. Fighting with my parents became worse, and I was still making horrible decisions with boys at such a young age. My mother made me feel worthless, my father ignored when she would strike me.
Eventually the sadness ebbed away, my irritability started to lessen, I ignored my bad temptations. I was still depressed but I could handle it. After many different medicines and large upward and downward spikes in my mental health I became stable. I got closer with friends, I stayed away from relationships until I loved myself, I stopped wanting to cut. My story is not very well written because I am still ashamed and will not write out the details. I want the readers to know that I am still struggling, that every day is a battle, but I learned how to cope. This is not exactly a happy ending, since I am lonely and still being bullied and harassed for my old behavior. Life doesn’t give you happy endings but you can make the best of it. Having a mental illness is not a bad thing, and if you have one you’re allowed to feel and exist, you are not a burden.
There is hope!
TheHopeLine agrees that you are not a burden. You are an individual who needs to be able to express them self and be loved and supported no matter what struggles you have.
If you or a friend need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, for free confidential, 24/7 help. Head here for a list of crisis centers around the world. For additional help, please visit the suicide prevention resource page.