Trigger Warning:
Talk of abuse, suicide, and depression will be thoroughly talked about in this article.
My trouble with mental illness started when I was incredibly young. I was the quiet girl with the sad eyes you'd meet in Kindergarten. I was the 3rd grader protecting someone from a bully because I knew all too well how it felt to be torn down by another person.
I was either distant and cold or way too boisterous and loud.
I used to have people tell me that I talked too much. They didn't understand that I was trying to fill the silence because I couldn't deal with how loud it was in my mind. My home life was not particularly satisfying. My step-father was cruel and callous. It was almost like he had it out for me the second he said, "I do." at my mom's wedding day.
He married my mom when I was only 6 months old and from that moment on I never knew any other type of real father figure. I had a rather strained relationship with my real dad, to say the least. I thought that the way my stepdad would belittle me was almost normal. That the crying I did almost daily was all a part of growing up. The constant insults numbed me after some time. There came a time when being called fat and worthless didn't make me feel any pain. I began agreeing with what he said.
Of course I was stupid, why else would he say that I was? The image that I saw in the mirror began to resemble exactly what he would describe. I saw myself as fat and disgusting, just like he did. I started crying because I thought that he was right. My mom - bless her - tried so hard to keep the house from erupting like a volcano. She never wanted to start conflict. She would just come into my room after the argument and say that he was wrong. I always saw her as the brightest light in my life. At least I knew the love of a mother, right? I feel that she was the only reason why I didn't run away. Later on she became one of the only reasons why I didn't kill myself as well.
I began starving myself and I hadn't even realized it. When I look back at pictures I see how thin and fragile I really was. At the time all I could talk about was how fat I was. I buried myself in school work or books so I didn't have to think about what was going on. School was my safe haven. I was happy when I was in school because I wasn't at home. I don't really remember exact moments in my childhood because my mind blocked them out as some survival tactic to keep me sane. My depression and anxiety got significantly worse when I was 15. My stepdad had come back into my family's life after being separated from my mom for two years. That triggered this darkness within me. I started having these emotional fits where I would cry for almost no reason. I was immediately concerned and even scared.
Over the next year it got about as worse as it could get.
I became a hollow shell. I romanticized my sadness. My suicidal thoughts were almost constant. I convinced myself that my depression was poetic. I would tell myself that I just wanted silence, forever. I was convinced that I would eventually end my life. I honestly don't know how I made it through this part of my life. I eventually moved in with my Nanna and she got me the help that I desperately needed. I was eventually put on a high dose of antidepressants that also helped alleviate my anxiety. After a major breakdown and a stay at an institution I actually started to really feel better. I like to think that the love for my family kept me going to a certain extent as well. I've been doing good for three years now.
I never even thought I'd life to see my high school graduation and now I'm starting college.
I survived.
The phrase, "it gets better" was true for me.
I know that it usually doesn't end that way, though.
Mental illness is such a huge epidemic right now but it isn't being treated as seriously as it should be. People are living undiagnosed and fighting their battles on their own. No one should be ashamed to get help. Take it from me, it doesn't make you weak or any less than someone else. You have to fight for it to get better. You have to put your pride aside for the betterment of yourself. It is so worth it in the end. It's like a fog is lifted that had been there for so long. I know how appealing ending your life can seem when you're tired of fighting. Don't let the darkness win. You are worthy of living your best life, even if you don't feel like you are right now. You can survive this.