I would like to give you a heads up! This is going to be one emotional roller coaster of a ride. So, prepare yourself for what you are about to read. If you are easily triggered I suggest that you don’t read this or do at your own cost.
This is also going to be a long ass post so I appreciate if you read it all or even the first or last paragraph.
Kurt Cobain, Robin Williams and most recently Chester Bennington to name a few famous, inspirational idols have lost their battles with depression and I don’t want anyone else to lose. Whether they are famous or not. No one should have to suffer in silence.
I’ve been battling my demons since I was around 9 years of age, so for about 13 years. It started when I found out that my mum was going through depression because of me. I had started breaking my bones at the age of 6 and it just got worse; to the point where I would be in hospital for 12 weeks twice a year. I would break bones left, right and centre. This is when my mum developed depression. She had to become my full-time carer. Imagine your child having to suffer so much pain on a daily basis and you having to watch. Not fun.
So, once I found out mum was depressed I started blaming myself. No matter how many times she told me that it wasn’t my fault. I always felt as if it was and I still do; she is no longer depressed, thank God. I kept blaming myself for how crap my mum felt which lead to me self-harming. *Trigger warning* I started to cut my skin open on my wrists. Not to the extent that it would do a lot of damage but enough for me to feel the pain, draw blood, feel punished for what I’d had done to my mum. Because of me she had to quit her job, leave her friends, not have a social life. The thing was I was never afraid of going too far, it wasn’t my intention to but if I did I wouldn’t care. I had also discovered that I had major mood swings. Everyone around me assumed it was just teenage hormones and didn’t think of it as anything. Just another moody teenager.
School didn’t help much either. I know I was hardly ever there because I was either at the hospital or stuck at home with a broken bone. But, the time I spent at school was the worst. After my bones got so bad that I ended up being wheelchair bound I had to change school. I got to year 1, then year 2 I had to do twice. After that I didn’t complete a full year of school until year 10. Thrown straight into GCSE’s. During the time that I did manage a day or two in middle school I got bullied. I have no idea why or what for but I got bullied about my weight (gained a lot due to lack of exercise and movement), the way I looked, and for being in a wheelchair. It hurt me to the point that I didn’t think I was worthy enough to live. It carried on to High School too.
I felt as if I was in a dark tunnel with no end. It just kept going; darkness.
Imagine having to wake up battling your demons, from the moment you wake up to the moment you close your eyes and let your brain switch off. It’s the worst feeling ever and I salute the people that are constantly fighting with their own mind.
It does get better, I promise but for now it’s still pretty bad.
During year 11 I had decided that I had enough. This was getting too much. I now had voices in my head telling me to do things I didn’t want to. Every time I asked them to give me a second of silence they just got louder. They never let me live in peace. I decided that it was time for these voices to leave me and there was only one way. I did try but was unsuccessful. I recovered and complete my GCSE exams; which I failed.
I was ready for a new start. To forget my past and move forward. I went to college to study BTEC Film and Television. All this time I had never told anyone I was suffering. I carried on the same in the first year of college. However, things changed during my second year. I met one of my best friends and she was the very first person I told about my self-harm and what I had done. At this point I was still self-harming; just so that I could feel pain, to make sure I could still feel because I constantly felt numb inside. She came with me to talk to my personal tutor about the things I felt and did and done. I was referred to the college counsellor. I thought it would help me, speaking about all of this, opening the lid to the bottle, but instead she just made me feel shit. She made me feel worse, useless. I stopped seeing her and carried on with the same thing. I again tried to get rid of my demons and once again was unsuccessful.
Fast forward two years and I got into university to do a course I thought was the safe option. Media Production (Radio). I complete the first year, having a few struggles but getting through. I made amazing friends that support and love me; the voices went quiet for a while. I proceeded onto second year and halfway through the first month I had a breakdown. I couldn’t do it anymore. I felt worthless; education has never been on my side and this time I couldn’t take it. I decided to drop out and I hated myself more than anything when I did. I instantly regret it because of what my family kept saying to me.
Because I don’t have any GCSE’s or anything else to work with, finding a job is difficult. Especially with my disability as well. It got to the point where everything was going down again. The voices were back and louder than ever before. There was only one way to stop them. I tried again; I thought that this time it would actually work. I was very sick for 3 days but my family thought it was a stomach bug and I didn’t say anything. I was unsuccessful again. During this time I hid from my family to the extent where I locked myself in the bathroom for over an hour to avoid a telephone call from a family member in another country. I have such bad social anxiety that I hardly leave my room let alone my house. Again, my family don’t understand it but I don’t expect them to as everyone else is confident and very social.
(I also suffer from major phone call and social anxiety).
It’s going to be a year in October since I dropped out of university. I’ve been applying to other universities as well as the previous one in hope that I can go back to studying. I haven’t been as successful as I was the first time but I am not going to give up until I get offered a place.
There are a lot of people out there suffering mental health issues. I still haven’t been able to tell my family about mine. They are very old fashioned and wouldn’t understand. I have tried to speak to them about it before but they’ve always brushed it off as me being moody or just weird. They don’t know about the self-harm or the attempted suicide. My friends. They know because they are the people I turn to when I am having a bad day. My way of dealing with every day demons is that I get creative. I draw, read, write, sing, write lyrics; anything to keep me from doing things I don’t want to do. From hurting myself. If I am not creating I end up thinking; thinking about things I shouldn’t think about; about what if’s. When that doesn’t work I message a friend and hope they can help me. A lot of them don’t understand what I go through and I don’t want to burden them so I keep quiet; however, even if they don’t understand they still support and want to help me. The ones that do understand let me know that I am worth it and that they will always be by my side no matter how hard I hit rock bottom. No matter how many times they tell me they love me and that I am an amazing person; some even called me an inspiration; I will never be able to believe them. I will always be worthless in my eyes.
I mostly turn to people like Dodie Clarke and Demi Lovato when I feel like it’s the end of the world. These two ladies speak out about their mental health that it’s like therapy to me. Them just speaking out about how they feel gives me a little bit of hope. Hope that things will get better.
I do still self-harm but not to the extent I used to. I do have visible scars on my wrist but most are covered up with tattoos. I hope that one day I stop and never look at a blade in the same way again. Sometimes I still feel like I’m stuck in that tunnel but I know that one day there will be an end to this tunnel. There will be a light at the end of it.
I know I’m a hypocrite when I say please get help; ask for help when you need it. But I’m going to say it anyway. I have the help of my friends and I know that I need professional help but it’s difficult when your family doesn’t understand. When you like in a society that shuns down on mental health issues. That doesn’t mean that I should be scared but I am. That’s just the way I am. I know that one day it will get to the point where I will have to get professional help whether I want it or not but for now I am okay.
I hope that this has somehow helped someone in one way or another.
All you need is FAITH, TRUST and a little PIXIE DUST – Peter Pan
All the love,