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This Is Me

By , New Bern, NC
This is my story, a long battle with depression brought out as a teen, being pushed into an unfamiliar ocean and not knowing what was happening, going through day after day just wanting to die, wishing that some tragic event would happen and I would no longer be in this world. My teen experience is filled with hate, anger, pain and silence, most of this was brought on by myself not knowing what on earth I could do, turning towards any type of relief that came in my general direction. No one knows what I go through and how I feel, even the smallest thing can send me flying through a world of hurt and terrible thoughts that can make even the strongest man cry. Living in my world is like being in something new every day, not knowing what my next mood swing may bring or what medication I may be put on next, it feels terrible not knowing who I am or how I’m supposed to feel. This is where my story begins.

The day I checked into a mental hospital, it started off as any other day for me, except this day I knew what was coming, trapped in my own mind and thoughts of what was to come from this tiny note book that held my inner most dark thoughts and secrets. Secrets that I have shared with no one in fear I would be shipped off to the looney-bin in hopes they could save me. Throughout the day I never took my eyes off the clock, waiting for two o’clock to come around when my dad would finally come to pick me up and take me to my therapist appointment that felt more like a death sentence. I cried that day, in the comfort of friends arms and in Ms. M's arms, saying over and over that I was afraid and I didn’t want to go, I was scared of what would happen and how I would turn out. Would I be okay? Would I get hurt? Are my parents going to give up on me? These were the questions running through my mind, the book burned a deep scarring hole in my pocket as the seconds ticked. When the time finally came, I checked out and went on my way to Greenville, silent and solemn, crying on and off for the half hour drive to this place I know all too well, not knowing whether I would be able to sleep in my own bed that night or not. Sitting in the waiting room, waiting for my doctor to come down and take me to talk about how school was going and how I was feeling, when he came I rushed over to him and told him I needed to speak to him alone. As we made our way into his office I showed him my book, along with a note I had written and a tiny instrument which had been my best friend over the past few months. Carefully he read each page and asked about everything in it, shaking his head and letting out sighs of disappointment. Finally the time had come, he looked up at me and told me that he was admitting me into a hospital since I was becoming a serious threat to myself, tears began to roll down my cheeks, tears of fear and hurt, not knowing what would happen and how I would turn out. I was moved into the children's ward of the hospital in Greenville only to be moved the next day into the mental hospital, seeing my parents that first night in the greeting room, I have never cried so hard in my life, wanting a hug and for someone to tell you that everything will be okay only for those words never to come, feeling like a sideshow freak in your own skin and just wanting to run away and never be seen again. Walking into the teenage ward was scary, having to show your scars and wounds and tell them everything about you, acting normal to make yourself seem better was something I will never forget. Acting because you think it will save you is something hard to do, knowing deep down you’re not okay and that you really want to die is not an easy thing to hide, putting on fake smiles and saying “I’m fine” when you want to cry is not easy. It hits you how hard you have fallen when you are thrown into a place where all you hear is “What are you in for?” it feels like prison and hell put into a glass and being force fed down your throat, gasping for air and nothing coming. Standing in lines and talking about feelings and thoughts commonly shared throughout the group, feeling alone in the world, wanting to leave and just hide in your bed and listen to sad songs for the rest of your days, but knowing that there is no way out but to get better, to get better and know that you won’t come back to the hospital again, never to be thrown in and have to fill out a “How are you feeling” paper again, never have to hear the gagging noise of some girl trying to hide that she’s throwing up just to stay thin. This was one of the most traumatic times in my life, I felt so alone and cold in the world, I knew I was doing better, I knew that I would get out and be the best that I would be.

Being in my own skin terrifies me sometimes, looking at my arms and legs makes me feel like I’m trapped in someone else's skin and there is no way out, I never like being me, I feel lost and hopeless, like swimming in a sea and being pulled out by the current and having no way to come to shore. Being me and only me, feeling scared to breathe, I feel like my friends are leaving me, they are beginning to hate me because I dated Gage and liked him again after we ended, being stupid and going after something I know would never happen again, wasting tears on someone who doesn’t even care for me. People are beginning to hate me now, I can do the littlest thing and make someone absolutely despise me, taking someones chair without even knowing it or just breathing the same air can make them hate me. I have learned that I take every negative comment and bottle it up in my brain and let it out when I feel the worst to make me feel worse, all those negative comments from years prior from boys that I don’t even remember come back to haunt me every now and then. I wish I could forget all of those comments , but I can’t, making new memories is hard when the bad memories keep coming back, the bad memories push the good memories aside and burn them, never to be seen again.

Being a teen is hard, but being a teen with mental disabilities is even harder. Trying to fight everyday without showing pain is hard, saying “I’m fine” when you want to break down is even harder. I won’t go back to the depths of hell and I’m never going to see the hospital again, the hospital was a good experience for getting better, but a bad experience because I never will forget the path I choose to get there. Being a teen is about learning from your past and making a better one, I am making a better future for myself and I’m not giving up.



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