Disorders and Treatment
- Mental Illness
- Bipolar Disorder
- Mood Disorders
- Borderline Personality
- Mental Health Diagnosis
- Mental Health Treatments
- Alternative Meds
- Case Studies
I feel kind of silly introducing myself with “I’ve been through a lot in my life”. I suppose because it’s so relative. What I can say is from the age of ten, my life started steadily crashing down upon me.
It started off with me suffering from a disease that caused internal bleeding and put me in so much pain, I can’t even begin to describe. Being ten, doctors kept sending me away. They called me a liar, a brat, and to suck it up- they didn’t believe I was in pain. For 3 months my body crippled- my kidneys failed, my insides were bleeding, I couldn’t eat or drink, or move…and nobody would help me.
All the pain I experienced then made me fear everything, once I started getting better. I was afraid of fainting, getting ill again, throwing up. I remember feeling like I was dying and knowing I could not see tomorrow. That feeling came back to me once I started getting depressed around the age of sixteen. I was abandoned by my father who was unpredictable and therefore abusive.
I can honestly say he didn’t mean badly, but those hours and hours of being whipped by a belt because I was being an annoying child (as can every child) made me hate him. He couldn’t control me with words, so resorted to the belt. Then he began travelling overseas and prostituting…leaving us with no money whatsoever.
I developed anxiety. Horrible anxiety. I was afraid everyone was judging me, observing me, wanted to hurt me. I couldn’t go to school or walk out of the house like I used to. I got angry at myself and felt disgusting. That’s when I started cutting myself. I liked that I was punishing myself. I didn’t feel worthy of life. I didn’t feel loved, and I blamed everything that happened on myself. I got into alcohol, and because of that, I ended up being raped. I cut more. I thought cutting would cover the layer of filth I thought I had on me from that man.
Eventually I tried to kill myself. I did so almost successfully, as I spent weeks planning and researching…and I told nobody. Things only started getting better a few months after my first suicide attempt. I realised I was getting all the wrong attention. I didn’t want people thinking of me as depressing or hopeless, or pitying me.
I realised I had so many dreams that I would never ever be able to reach if I continued on like this. I got better. I relapsed…but only for a short while! I didn’t let one relapse send me back into that vicious cycle. Ever since then I haven’t cut myself and I haven’t even a razor in my house. I’m proud of myself. I know you can do it too if you set your mind too it. Remember, it’s entirely up to you.
- Anon, 17
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