I'm Struggling and I Know That

One

It all started out pretty regular. I was born on January 10, 2001.  It was a Wednesday morning. A Capricorn baby. That was me.

No one knew I wasn't up to par yet. I was a happy baby. I came out looking mesmerized. What is this new world I'm in? Am I even gonna like it?

I think back on that a lot. If I even like the world I live in.

***

The first major signs of my mental illness were in third grade. I was eight years old and was struggling to focus in class, make friends, and communicate my feelings with people. I didn't know what to say and what not to say. I didn't understand how to fit in with people at all, and the girls in my class immediately used that against me.

My parents caught on to my obvious slowed learning and got me a therapist. She was really nice to. We'd drink tea and have snacks and talk about the girls at school. It was alright. But I didn't think it was really helping.

Meanwhile, my classmates would step on my art projects, tell the others girls not to be partners with me, laugh and say no one cared about me or what I found interesting, and even ask which other students wanted me to die.

I didn't understand suicide or death at all really at eight, but I knew how I felt. And I decided I didn't want to live in a world so cruel.

I'd write little notes and draw pictures about how I didn't want to be around anymore. The girls in my class only added fuel to the fire. My parents quickly pulled me out of school and decided to have a family friend homeschool me instead. Clearly I needed more attention.

The homeschooling was definitely better. I learned a lot more but still struggled to get along with people. Especially my family.

I became the problem child pretty quickly. My dad and I fought endlessly. I was being disrespectful. I was talking back. I was being rude to my sisters. I fought with my mom. I just never really learned how to get along with people. And it impacted a lot of my relationships then and in the future.

***

My parents decided to get me diagnosed by a psychiatrist. I went through test after test, both written and visual to figure out what the hell was wrong with me.

In 2009, I was diagnosed with ADHD, OCD, and anxiety. It all started to make some sense.

I wasn't just weird.

I had these diagnoses that were all supposed to mean something and figure out why I act the way I do. I didn't really understand my diagnoses but I knew they meant something about me and who I was.

My parents trying putting me on different meds to help me stay in control. We tried so many different ones with different effects and side effects. Some made me lose weight, some made me angry, some didn't work, and some did. Eventually we got to a place where they seemed to be working alright. I still struggled with people and getting along, but I seemed to be on the right track.

I stayed in home school for the rest of the year, but eventually I began to drive our family friend crazy with my different antics and my mom decided a personal tutor to work with me on school would be a lot better. So that's what we did for a year.

I'd wake up each day, go through my schoolwork and then go to bed. Each day same thing. After a while though, I got really lonely. I didn't have many friends and I was sick of being alone all day.

My parents and I all sat down and realized it was time for me to go back to school again. I was now finishing fourth grade and was going to go back to a public school for fifth grade.

And believe it or not, I actually did okay.