“I never wanted help. I never asked for it from anyone. No one knew what I was going through. To be quite honest with you, if my Humanities teacher didn’t notice something was wrong and sent me to the social worker’s office, I would most likely still be in the same dark place as I was nearly 9 months ago…”
Growing up, I never had a hard life. I was a decent kid that did well in school and had the best family anyone could ask for. The only thing that really bothered me as I got older was that my biological father was not in my life. I know that I shouldn’t let it bother me, considering that I had two loving mothers at home and my grandparents lived right next door to us. But seeing many people with their fathers caused me to build up resentment towards my father. I always asked myself, “Why doesn’t he love me?” “What did I do to make him leave me?” I asked myself questions like that all the time. I mean you would feel the same way if your father just stopped showing up 8 years ago. My depression doesn’t exactly revolve around that, but it is what it stems from.
I started cutting myself in 7th grade. Not because of just my father, but because everything was too much to handle in my mind. I was driving myself insane and cutting helped ease the pain.
“Cut horizontally for attention, cut vertically for results.”
I hated who I was with a passion. I hate that I am overweight, I hate how I look, I hate how I handle situations, I hate that all my friends are prettier and skinnier than I am. I flat out hated everything that had to do with me. I would sit and criticize myself to know end on how I am not good enough and no matter how hard I try, I never will be. Having that outlook on my life it what slowly killed me inside. Cutting made all of that pain go away for a very short while, but I was desperate for any relief from my tormenting mind.
My Story