life of the depressed.

untitled

When I was 4 years old. I said my first actual words to my grandmother that I had previously lived with. When I was 8 years old I started to talk to other students in my class. You see when i was younger I didn't like to talk . I don't know if I didn't like to talk or I didn't like to talk to other humans . when I was in day care the other adults that didn't know my mom (which worked there) thought I was deaf or mute or both. I wouldn't make eye contact or look at them at all when they tried to speak to me. I guess they should've figured out that i just wasn't cut out to be around people. I would tell the teachers at my elementary school in grade 3 that I didn't feel good each Wednesday because that was computer lab day and the teacher would make us talk. I hated it. I met a few friends in grade 3 and they were my only friends till grade 5. Middle school hit me like a bomb. I couldn't be quiet anymore and I had to start to speak more to be heard. So I toughed it out, I got in trouble a lot and was suspended and sent to ISAP (in school suspension) . I was sexually abused in grade 6 and I didn't tell anyone because it wasn't something that I wanted someone else to have to carry on their shoulders . I started to get lightly bullied about how my boobs were too small. So I started to stuff my bra . they told me my nose was big so I looked into nose jobs (I'm to young so I could never get one) . so instead I stole my sisters glasses to make my nose look smaller. They made fun of my weight so I stopped eating and then I started to eat and throw up whatever I did. I turned bulimic and anorexic. I turned to cigs and pot and razor blades as friends to try to numb everything that I ever felt was wrong with this body that society taught me how to hate. That was also the year that I got my first therapist. His name was paul and i told him i was going to go home and slit my throat and he didnt do a damn thing about it so i got worse . Grade 7 came along. Same bullying and same problems. I had my first suicide attempt that year. I thought that if I took some PMS medicine then I would die, but it didn't work. So I tried to hang myself from the ceiling vent. I was to heavy and the ceiling vent was to weak. It fell out from the ceiling and everything came down with it, all of my hope and faith and love came crashing down and it never was redeemed. The year passed with alcohol and pot and razors and tears. But those tears were never showed to anyone except the four walls that I called my sanctuary. Grade 8 came and went. Same routine . that was the year that I was institutionalized. OLOP (OurLadyOfPeace) was the name. I was there for 3weeks. Waking up at 8am and going to sleep at 7pm. Going to groups and being 'okay' anytime they asked if we were alright. I met a girl there named viktoria . I loved her. But when I left that place and she stayed, that was when my heart stayed with her. (If you see this viktoria... (Oogway) Shabalaba Dingdong) . freshman year of highschool. God damn it was the worse . first day of high school was also the first day to have a panic attack, to experience hell, and the beginning to my end. My highschool at the time was huge. 3 wings (A side , B side, and C side) with 2 floors. It was an okay school except all of the people. I came from a middle school of only around 200-300 students to a highschool of probably 1,000+ kids. I was still on drugs and still selfharmed and still drank like a 50 year old retired sailor. On October 27,2014 I had passed out while drinking and was in a coma kinda thing. My alcohol level was a 3.879 and if you hit an alcohol level of 4.0 you are basically pronounced dead on the scene. The doctors were surprised I even woke up... I don't remember a damn thing . I was supposed to go back to OLOP but I never did. Then on febuary 14,2015 I had taken 57 pills of benadryl and ibuprofen and other medicine to try to kill myself. It almost worked too. I was taken to the hospital and then was institutionalized for my second time, I was sent to The Broek. I was there for around 2 months, lied about everything. Said I was better, said I was happy, said I had no more suicidal tendencies . I lied.
March of 2015 I had ran away from home, i was gone for awhile before the police came and took me back to the broek . I was there for a little over a month and then returned home. Now there was 10th grade. Now... I'm still getting bullied and every now and again I selfharm ... Im waiting to get transferred to a different school and some days I don't even want to move at all. I put on a smile every day and pretend I'm fine. Because I am . physically I am fine. Emotionally is a different story. I have been diagnosed with some things ... But I have no clue.
If you have gone through any of this just know that I love you and that I am here and you are not alone.
Razorblades are not our friends, theyre our demons.