My name is Emily. When I was 5 months old I was diagnosed with cancer. They told my parents I wouldn't make it to my first birthday. I, fortunately, was recovered by age of 1. Skipping foward to 6th grade, I decided that I would do anything to be popular. Ive always been a major introvert, which didn't fit in well with my schools standards of 'popular'. I got in with the wrong crowd. I was physically, mentally, and verbally abused. I began to harm myself because the leader of the group harmed herself and got a lot of attention from it. In seventh grade I realized I had made a huge mistake, so I began to harm myself and this time not for attention. This went on for about 2 and a half years. Until the middle of 9th grade when i decided that enough was enough. I was going to get better. Now I am graduating from 10th grade in a week. I am 4 months clean. I may still be recovering, but Im getting there. And Im proud of how far Ive gotten so far. I didnt come this far just to come this far. I will succeed in my seqrch for happiness someday someday, and until that day, I will fight for my life.
May 22, 2017
It's not a cliche, it does get better. It doesn't get perfect, but it does get better. I have been seeing a psychiatrist since the seventh grade. I tried 4 different antidepressants before the eighth grade. Nothing seemed to help. I was discouraged. I was hospitalized for self harm in the eighth grade. I was so embarrassed. The people I met in the hospital were clearly much "crazier" than I was. I just wanted to get out of there and return to my "normal" life of putting on happy face. As much as I hated the experience, I needed it. It was only afterward that I finally opened up to my psychiatrist about what was really bothering me. I was in love with my best friend, who was of the same sex. (You don't have to agree with my life choices, I know not everyone does. But I'm not here to make you uncomfortable, I'm here to share my story of encouragement.) Long story short, I told my friend how I felt. They were terrified and we stopped talking. I was devastated. I have a deep scar on my leg from that day. But I was finally able to embrace the person that I am. Fast forward 7 years, and I haven't cut since then. I finally realized I do need help. I'm still seeing a psychiatrist and I finally found a medication that works for me. Part of my healing came from learning to love myself for who I am, but I finally realized that depression didn't make me "damaged goods". It isn't my fault. It stems from a chemical imbalance in my brain, and treating it with medication is nothing to be ashamed of. Today, I am in love with an amazing individual, and I have a wonderful, supportive family. The bad days still come, but I have found my Reasons to keep me away from blades. I get through them. Every single one of them. And I am better for it. I have a wonderful life that I am happy to be a part of. Back in the eighth grade, I never could have pictured this, but here I am. And it's better. Not perfect, but better. I still see that scar on my leg, but I have finally gotten over the shame about it. It helps me see that I have made it 7 years without adding another scar. It helps me see that I made it through the dark parts and I am okay.