Part Un:
And by sad, I mean seriously depressed. Yes, I'm about to let you have a small glimpse of my past. I'm doing this because, I believe that my screw-ups will someday be someone else's success story.
Now, where to start.....
"Stuff" happened in my past that contributed to my growing depression. I'm not going to break it down. It's personal and I don't believe in pointing fingers. That being said....
I believe that I was 15 ish when I started to become severely depressed. I didn't care about how I looked and I certainly didn't care to attract young boys.
At this age (15-16 ish), I needed to find an outlet for my anger. I had a thing for Freud and recognized that I had a problem, I just didn't know how to fix it. I didn't have help, and I'm not sure that people realized the torment that I was putting myself through.
I began to write- I wrote about the dark, angry things that swallowed up my thoughts. Every day, I dedicated a new thought to a small journal I kept. It was an innocent looking journal, with two small horses on its front cover. I locked up my depression in the pages of that journal.
After a while, the journal fixation became stale, I needed a new outlet. I was even angrier now. Writing angry thoughts on a piece of paper and ripping it into tiny shreds, just wasn't cutting it anymore.
Cutting....
And so I did. For a brief moment in my life, I started to experiment with cutting myself. Thankfully, I stopped before I got brave enough to go deeper and cause some serious scarring.
Let me explain to you, how cutting myself made me feel....
It was both sick and satisfying all at once. It put me into a haze, or trance like world. It allowed me to escape from my reality.
I had control! I got to pick the sacred spot on my arm, that would be sacrificed to the knife. I felt like a useless being who needed to be punished.
When I drew blood, I felt triumphant. It was thrilling to see the blood trickling down my arms. I felt powerful, because I controlled this hurt on my body, NOBODY ELSE!
Control....
It took me about 6mths of on and off cutting to realize that this was very wrong. It became less enjoyable, and I was tired of covering up my arms with long t-shirts. And then one day, it Hit me!
I was looking for control, over myself.
The issue all along, was that I felt completely and utterly out of control of my life, body and decisions. That is why I cut myself.
I was lucky enough to figure that out on my own. I started to recognize my depression and I chose to face it.
Some of us aren't that lucky. Take it from somebody who's been there, trapped in a whirlwind of self destruction. I know how you're feeling. I know the hurt, dissapointment and anger that consumes you.
You CAN get through anything in life! ANYTHING! Nobody can tell you to do it, you have to want it for yourself. I'm just telling you that it's possible...your choice.
Was I completely healed from my own self destruction, after stumbling on to its cause?
NO!
Next came the tormenting habits of flicking the light switch on, and off, and on, and off. Followed by the obsessive washing, and re-washing, and re-washing of my newly cracked and chapped hands.
OCD.....
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