Hello, I go by Haine. I have been dealing with depression since I was 12 years old. Growing up, I lived a very privileged life. I had my mom and dad who had great jobs (money was never a issue for us), we went on family vacations, I got everything I wanted. Yet, I still found myself sad and thinking of suicide. My parents called me selfish, and they constantly reminded me of how good I had it which made me feel even worse. My grades started slipping by the time I was in middle school. I went from all A's to getting C's and D's. My mom became very harsh with me. She took away my video games, and limited my television time because she thought that was why I was failing. That wasn't the case at all. I wanted to die. I was always sad, and I stayed locked away in my room. In eighth grade, a friend told me about how people cut themselves, and that is what I ended up doing. I had scars running up and down my arms, and no one noticed.
One day I decided to test my parents. I had my arms flipped up so my scars were visible whenever we were at the dinner table, and they never noticed. I was scared of committing suicide, so I decided to keep cutting myself. It hurt so much, but it was the only way I could cope. I have a vivid memory of one evening my mom was yelling at me about my math homework. I had a blanket wrapped around myself. While she yelled and berated me, I used some sharp scissors to cut into my skin. It was hidden under the blanket, but I always remember how she yelled, and I cried, and how I ended up with hundreds of small scars up and down my left arm.
Eventually my parents found out. But they didn't want to put me on medication or take me to therapy, so they hid all the sharp objects in the house, but I always ended up finding something to hurt myself with. Finally! After a year, they decided to put me in therapy (which didn't help) and put me on medication. My dad didn't believe I had depression. He said I was having "growing pains". I was put on 20 mg of Lexapro which worked for a while. Then I went back to self harming and planning my suicide. My mom looked through my google search history one day and found that I had googled ways to kill myself. My dad wasn't as concerned because he didn't think I would do it.
So, I was bumped up to 40 mg of Lexapro. High school was hell for me because of my depression and anxiety, but I persevered and graduated! I went away to college (my mom didn't want me to because she was afraid I would self harm again). College was a nice change of pace. One good thing that came out of it was my relationship with my mom got better. We used to fight all the time, but once I was out of the house we became super close. My freshman year of college ended on a good note, and I thought maybe this was it. Maybe this is when life gets better.
I was wrong.
My Dad cheated on my mom and left us for his other woman right after I finished my first semester. He said that he had done his job as a parent, and that I would be fine.
I was devastated. I spiraled. I could not cope with the fact that my family had just been torn apart. So, my spring semester, I almost committed suicide by overdoing on pills, but I chickened out and instead went to the E.R. and told them I was suicidal. That was the worse decision of my life. Only one nurse was kind to me (Thank you Sandy), but it was a hellish experience. They wouldn't let my parents see me, and I was all alone. My dad called and he told me to do what the nurses told me to do then I would get out. The next day I ate, talked, smiled, and I convinced them to let me go home with my parents the next day. They put me on 40 mg of Fluoxitine and that is what I've been taking these past two years. It doesn't help, so after going cold turkey, it is no longer in my system. My parents still think I'm taking it.
Right now I'm just at a lost. I am about to graduate with my BFA, but I feel weird because I feel like I shouldn't be alive. It doesn't sit right with me.
Anyway, that's my story. I'm 22 and just trying to live, but I don't know how much more trying I can do.