I was first diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder and severe depression at the age of 13. It started with nightmares about simple things that are not scary and most kids laugh at. It would seem like everything I watched on TV was going to attack me while I slept, so I didn’t sleep. I just laid in my bed clutching to my blanket, watching the clock until the images that made up my nightmare, would leave my thoughts. After every 3 days of very little sleep, I would stay home from school and sleep during the day. Of course my mom would stay with me because I couldn’t do it alone. She lost countless jobs from calling in to stay with me while I slept. After going through several medications that failed to do anything helpful for me, but rather they gave me an upset stomach, caused constant headaches and I spent far too much time in the bathroom.
My depression worsened because I had started to lose hope of ever being normal. One year later, I started to cut myself and when I realized that I could make my mind block out the pain, the cuts got deeper and deeper. I didn’t think about the damage I was doing to my body. I just knew that when the school bus came in the morning to pick us up, the first place I went to was find release under the old stairwell and because no one ventured this far due to its abundance of creepy, it was safe for me. I was in peace and in my mind that was the only thing about myself that didn’t disappoint anyone. When the razor went across my skin every single time there was a trail of red sadness that followed and it painted my arm. When my mother confronted me about the cutting, I broke down in tears and wept for a long time. I told her I wanted someone to help me. I didn’t want to be sick in the head. I didn’t want to cut my flesh open to remind myself that I was alive with blood in my veins. Most of all, I didn’t want to hurt my family anymore. I just wanted to be happy!
My mother took me to a doctor that had been recommended by her best friend who had a son that had tried to take his own life weeks earlier. I told her everything about how I had been feeling, the nightmares and who they were about, and about the cutting. At the age of 16 I started lifelong journey of recovery that I am still on to this day. I still have days that I feel a little upset and anxious, but I am happy! That is why I walk, I walk to stay happy.
Education & Support Assistant