Blog Entry: You can do anything, be anything.

You can do anything, be anything. I've suffered from depression/anxiety for years and it's made my life pretty shitty. I turned to self harm as a way to cope and it completely destroyed every close relationship I had. I wouldn't talk to my family, my friends, the people at school. I sat silent for so long. One day I decided I was going to run away and eventually I was going to kill myself; I just couldn't do it at home. I wouldn't want my mom or sister to find me.

I live in the middle of the bush, trees for kilometres. The highway leading out of my town is about a half hour drive, and then there's still another 45 minutes until you reach any sort of town. I didn't care how far I had to walk, or if I even made it to another town. I took off down the highway anyway. I must have been walking at least 6 hours before the police started doing their rounds. I hadn't even made it the half hour mark and I was exhausted. Cars passed, but didn't stop. Eventually the sun started setting and a police car drove by me and slowed down.

I was terrified. I didn't have a sweater on to cover my arms, I was in the middle of no where with no explanation. I wanted to run.

He asked who I was, I didn't answer.

He asked where I was going, I didn't answer.

He looked at my arms and asked if today was a good or bad day. I didn't answer.

He gave me the option to get a ride back home, or get a ride to the hospital.

I wouldn't tell him where I lived, so he forced me into the back of his car.

I wanted to die more than ever.

I sat in the hospital for 5 hours while they figured out what they were going to do with me.

They told me they had to call my mom, seeing as I was only 17 at the time.

I felt terrible.

I couldn't imagine figuring out your daughter was a suicidal mess from complete strangers.
I sat silent and stared at my feet.
My mom came in, I didn't talk. She started off on how it was stupid, what I was doing.
She realized I wasn't going to answer and resorted to trying to make me laugh.
Didn't work.
I was pissed.
Her and my sister went home and came back an hour later, telling me they had gone into my email/facebook/tumblr accounts.
I couldn't handle it.
I never wanted to speak to them again.
They found out things I never wanted them to know.

I got stuck in the hospital for 2 weeks, watched closely. I didn't talk or eat for the first week, I didn't want to live. So what was the point?
My sister kept coming in and telling me I was selfish and stupid. It made me hate her.
I don't think I've ever wanted to die so bad in my life.

After the two weeks were up I got sent to a hospital 5 hours from my town that had access to a mental ward.
I felt like everyone thought I was crazy. The people in there talked to me like I was some sort of freak.
I sat alone and read for 5 days.
I lied a lot. I told them I felt fine. I told them I was feeling better.
I told them I had stopped wanting to die.
I told them the medication was working.
They sent me home with booklets on how to cope with depression.

I actually fooled myself into believe I was better, I didn't cut/burn for about 6 months. I felt happy and alive.
That September I entered grade 12..for the second time, I went to orientation with short sleeves on. Something I never thought I'd do. Life was looking up. I stopped taking my anti-depressant. I felt better. I didn't need them.

I only had one class, music. It was great. I already played Sax for 4 years so I decided it was time to learn something else. I chose the flute.
It was about a month into school, I was wearing a teeshirt, no one ever mentioned anything about my scars, so I felt fine wearing them, this girl named Courtney who also played flute looked over and screamed. "Whoa, what the heck happened to your arm?!"
I felt my heart sink. I started to cry. My sister looked at her and just told her our cat wasn't very friendly.
That night I went home and tore apart a shaving razor. I couldn't take it anymore.
What was the use of living if I'd be constantly questioned about it?
I cut the deepest I've ever cut.
It hurt so bad. I felt so crappy.
I didn't want to live.
I grabbed random pill bottles from around my house.
I must have taken over 200 tablets.
My stomach ached. My arms ached.
I couldn't do this anymore.
I sat in the shower and cried to myself.
My life was terrible.

In November my sister snitched on me because she found razors in my room.
My mom forced me to go to the hospital, I convinced the social worker and the nurses that I wasn't going to kill myself. I was fine. I didn't want to die.
They believe me.
I must have been getting to be a pretty good liar.

December rolled around, I was still self harming, still overdosing on random pills I would find.
I began to develope and eating disorder. I started smoking cigarettes. I was doing anything I could that could kill me.

On December 13th my dog, who had cancer, passed away. He was my baby. I loved him like he was my child.
That's when I decided I wanted to get better.
I didn't want to put my family through that.
I couldn't.
It hurt so bad.

No matter how hard I tried I couldn't stop self harming.
It became my addiction. I needed it.
Every day, every week. At least once.

I don't know what happened between December and now.
Something in my just changed.
I still get suicidal thoughts.
I still feel lousy a lot of the time.
But I feel like I could have a future.
I haven't self harmed since March 17th.
And I'm so proud of that.
I don't want to fall back into that addiction.
It makes you feel ugly.
Inside and out.
It's a monster tearing you up from the inside out.

It's now May 5th.
I have a girlfriend I adore.
Best friends I can't live without.
My family..is becoming more like a family.

Today. I can say I'm pretty happy. Today I can say I don't want to die. Today I can say it does get better. Not all at once. It takes a lot of time and effort. Don't refuse the help you're offered. You'll regret it. You're so much better than any mental illness.
You can do anything.
Be anything.
You're everything.