The Deep Pain Inside Brianna
It started right before entering my senior year in high school. I was tired. Tired of people. Tired of my overbearing parents. Tired of sharing everything with my twin. Tired of life. I attempted suicide when I was at the tender age of 16. I totaled my car by hitting a pole at a whopping 50+ miles per hour. I flipped the car so high I knocked the top off the pole, crushed the passenger side, and somehow walked away with a few scratches. I was scared. I was upset, but I was alive.
Fast forward just a couple of months. Senior year has started, and nothing is going right. I continually ask myself why I failed. Why am I still here? I felt like a burden on my family. On my teachers. I worked hard in school, to an extent. I had to pretend I didn’t care a little. Otherwise they would all ask what was wrong with me. I still couldn’t cope. I watched my twin get everything I had worked three years for. Section leader in band, team captain on our varsity soccer team, she had the high school sweetheart, she was the thin one, the smart one. She had it all. I started to cut. It wasn’t for attention. It wasn’t for anyone to say, I am so sorry, as they looked away.
It was because there was a pain inside me I couldn’t deal with.
I was immature. Angry. I made it through Christmas barely. Over the break I got a cold, I started taking medicine. I found out I didn’t need much sleep on it. So I kept taking it. For months. Even after the cold had been long gone. I had a drug dependency. I didn’t need to sleep more than a couple hours a night. But I didn’t make a good use of my extra time. I cried a lot. When everyone was asleep. And I cut. At this point, I had a really bad attitude. A bad outlook on life. I hated everyone and everything. Because of that attitude, I didn’t step foot on the soccer field my entire senior year, despite starting on varsity since my freshman year. It was devastating.
I finally lost it and lashed out, not at a student, but at a teacher. When she confronted me, I broke down and told her I didn’t need her sympathy, that’s why I cut. For me, not anyone else. Here is where being a minor came into play… They told me parents. After watching my mother cry, they put me in therapy. Professional therapy. The counselor talked to me, asked me what was wrong and I told him all my grievances with the world. He asked what I did for fun. I had to say nothing. Nothing was fun anymore. I didn’t have my school, my sport, even my friends were gone at this point. All I had was cold medicine and scarred thighs.
During my final months of senior year, my final months of therapy, I found something out about myself. I was lost. I had strayed so far from God I didn’t know how to get back.
Here I was searching desperately for something to help me. To take away my loneliness, my pain. And He was right there. Waiting for me.
There were so many signs while I was struggling, but I was too angry to see them or take them for what they were. I reconnected with God. Got involved with my church. It took a long time, but I beat my drug dependency, I beat the need to be accepted by everyone around me, and I beat the need to self harm myself. I was accepted. Finally. I strayed throughout college, I don’t know many people who don’t honestly.. But I found my way back through an amazing man who I am now engaged to marry. I am in charge of a youth group, and we lead discussions about tough topics. Topics I have firsthand experience with. I also sing. I sing on Wednesdays, I sing on Sundays. I sing at work. In the car. Alone or surrounded by people. I lift God and I thank him every day for rescuing me from myself and the devil within me. I still fight sin. Daily. It’s still a struggle. But I am no longer alone. Praise Jesus for his love and grace. – Brianna