My Depression

I was never perfect.

I wasn't the girl who's parents were proud.

I didn't get A's or B's.

I was the kid that everybody expected to fail.

I wasn't always that way of course.

As a child I loved reading and was on Honor Roll.

Something happened in middle school.

That little girl so willing to learn turned into a rebel.

We all have our reasons.

Some of us were overprotected.

Some where born rebels.

Me?

I was depressed.

I've touched on this topic in one of my previous blogs.

I only explained how it connected to the birth of my first beautiful son.

Not how it made me, molded me.

I am not the girl I was.

I truly believe if someone, anyone, had saved me sooner 

I would be so different today.

What is inside of me I haven't shared.

For one reason or another I have always tried to hide it.

Afraid of what you might think of me.

What if they tell me it was stupid?

What if they think Im not a fit mother?

What if...?

So much has happened.

For so long I've held in my past, locked it away so deep.

It has cut my open from the inside out because of this.

You all mean so much to me and there are some of you who even helped me survive.

You give me the strength to continue when I have felt like I shouldn't have been born.

In highschool I loved a boy.

The people in this will remain nameless but I will give them a letter to avoid confusion.

This boy will be 'J'.

I was a 15 year old freshman.

He was an 18 year old senior.

We met at a football game.

He was at the front of the bleachers and I was at the back.

He turned around and shouted across the crowd 

"Hey, are you the lesbian?"

I do have a thing for girls but was not a lesbian.

I ignored him.

But as time went on he followed me in school and became my friend.

He got to know the real me.

The me that I hid deep inside.

The pain I felt at home.

All the names I was called.

How I cut everyday.

He wanted to save me.

He couldn't but he tried.

The more persistent he was the more I fell for 

the boy who didn't give up.

I let him in and I had never done that.

It was the beginning of my first "love" story.

We started dating and he came over everyday after school.

He seemed like a great guy.

One month after we started dating I wanted to loose my virginity.

I thought we would be together forever etc.

I had no idea what love was.

He kept telling me no.

He didn't want to take my innocence.

Once I turned 16 I decided I would try to seduce him.

I was so young and reckless.

It worked though and he finally agreed.

It was painful and not at all what I had expected.

I wasn't exactly pleased with what had happened.

I then was so attached to him.

I thought that he was mine and no other girl should have a thing to do with him.

He didn't like that.

We had many fights.

After about 6 months of dating we split up.

A week later he called me wanting to meet up and talk.

I met him at his friends apartment.

J was high, I think he had been drinking as well but I don't know.

His friend was sitting in the living room playing video games.

I came in and we talked.

I don't remember what about it was all so weird seeing him again.

He was so happy without me.

It stung.

He then grabbed me and carried me to his friends bathroom.

I was in shock. 

What was he doing?

At that moment I knew I made a mistake coming here.

He raped me that night.

His friend did nothing.

I ran home and my parents had called my grandparents.

They had all been searching for me, it was after dark.

I had left in the afternoon.

We filed a case and I went to testify.

They had me go into a room with a man with a piece of paper.

There was a big window like in interrogation rooms in crime shows.

He had me tell him what happened.

He was very kind but it was hard for me to talk to him.

I was ashamed.

Ashamed of myself.

I thought somehow it was me.

He went to court and I didn't hear what happened until years later.

The charges were dropped on him somehow.

I still don't know why or what exactly happened.

After that day I became someone else.

I was withdrawn and alone.

I had given up on myself.

I wished so many nights I wasn't born.

I would cry myself to sleep.

I was so broken.

After many cuts I couldn't bring myself to cut deep enough.

I wasn't squeamish about blood, nor was a a weenie with pain.

My problem wasn't that I couldn't, I just wasn't over that edge yet.

Then one night my dad came home drunk.

It honestly wasn't his first time with drinking.

He usually did it after work.

Mom said it was because his job was stressful.

He usually just beat in doors or threw computers.

He was usually fairly clumsy when he was drunk which was the advantage my sister and I had.

The disadvantage was his size and brute force.

He was a 6'2" man who was quite strong.

He was also a psychiatrist.

Which means he can hurt as easily as help.

He knew what buttons to push to get you to a certain point.

He was the kind of person who, if he started a pointless argument, would hurt you if you walked away from the fight.

I don't remember what he started this argument about.

Maybe a sock of mine being in the living room.

Maybe the bathroom not being clean.

I agreed to clean it up and I guess he thought my tone was not appropriate.

It was midnight on a school night.

He had woken me up to tell me and I was exhausted.

He started the yelling.

So loud.

He started walking toward me and I kept backing up.

He knew I had told on him.

He was mad.

My mom was mad.

My sister was scared.

I was the only one who didn't care.

I had no self worth.

I wasn't worried.

If he killed me for it, so be it.

Would save me the trouble.

He backed me into a wall still yelling.

He was working himself up.

He by this point was turning red and shaking in anger.

He called me all sorts of names.

They didn't hurt me.

My heart was almost solid ice.

There was only one spot that was left unharmed.

He must have seen how unaffected I was.

He grabbed my wrist.

I didn't wince even though there was a bruise there.

That made him mad.

Pain usually worked.

He didn't like to fail.

Then he said what I had begged God to protect me from.

"You deserved what you got. You're a slut."

My heart ached.

I felt a shard of ice stab into my soul and shatter it.

No.

I had nothing left to hold onto. 

He saw he had succeeded.

He left me there.

I was running.

Tears streaming down my face but I had nothing left.

I had no will anymore.

Just an urgent drive to end it.

This pain.

It hurt worse than death.

I ran to the bleachers.

I had read up on nooses.

I had made one out of a rope my dad had kept in his car.

I had debated on the handgun or knives he had in his trunk as well but decided against it.

Mom said he kept those things in the car because people at work threatened him.

I always questioned that.

I tied everything securely, I surprised even myself.

I wasn't exactly versed in knots.

But it must have been good enough.

I put the hole around my neck and without hesitation jumped.

It didn't work immediately.

I had hoped it would just break my neck and that would be it.

I started suffocating.

It was a horrible feeling.

Pain flared up everywhere. 

My face started to hurt.

I felt like I would explode.

Then it started to subside.

I was loosing consciousness. 

I was going to die.

I heard laughter.

I was getting closer.

It would be too late.

That was ok.

I passed out.

I woke up in a hospital.

I was hideous.

I had nasty marks on my neck. 

My face was discolored.

I never spoke.

They shipped my in a van with bars on the windows  to a different state.

I was walked into a mental hospital.

I was told to strip and put on a sheet.

They checked me for any razors etc.

They then told me I couldn't keep my jacket because it had strings.

I was given back the clothes I was allowed to wear and given a room.

I ended up staying there for about a month.

I got pills that would "get rid of my depression".

I had classes and exercise everyday.

Eventually I was good enough to go home.

But I was in state custody.

They told me that when I got there.

My grandma would be taking care of me.

They said they try to keep you with family.

So I went to live with my grandma.

She helped me through a lot.

She got me a kitten that I named Foxx.

He slept with me every night and I got a lot of cuddles from my grandma.

Things were good.

I started a new school where I made tons of friends.

I vowed to be more outgoing and act like a "normal" kid.

I did a good job.

I met a guy I will call "D" a few months into moving.

He didn't go to our school but one of my friends introduced us.

I knew she securely had a crush on him.

But I wanted him.

He was a bad boy though.

You could tell just by how he walked.

He was the star football player at his high school.

So many girls wanted him.

I made it a competition I would win.

We texted a while.

Somehow he asked me out.

We dated a while and had sex a lot.

Then the friend who introduced me told him lies and he broke up with me.

I wasn't disappointed. 

I thought of him as a trophy.

I never had feelings for him.

Then it started.

I got into using guys.

It filled up that void in me.

That part of me that was destroyed.

Those men in my life.

They all hurt me.

Now it was my turn.

For the next few months I went through a lot of guys.

Most older than me.

They all resembled J in some way or another.

Each one of them I dated.

Gave them sex that they thought was "amazing".

They'd want more and I'd be gone.

Then at school one day another friend I skipped school with said someone had something to say to me.

We will call him "B".

B came up to me and told me he thought I was pretty.

He was a grade younger than me.

He had blond hair and blue eyes.

He was unlike any guy I had ever been with.

He was the kind of guy who you could see wearing sweater vests.

He loved reading and writing.

He planned on becoming an author.

We found we had many things in common and I got back in touch with the hobbies I had enjoyed.

I started writing stories.

I made drawings and filled my walls with them.

He was impressed.

We dated for about two weeks before we had sex for the first time.

He had only been with one other girl and it had been a bad experience.

After that we had sex almost every time we were together.

We were very close in our writing.

We wrote stories together and shared ourselves.

I let another boy in.

This time it felt different.

Again, I swore we would get married.

We planned our wedding and kids.

We even had names for our future kids.

It seemed like for once It would work.

I had gotten out my anger at men and accepted my past.

He helped me mend it.

He told me not all guys were like that and he would prove that there are people who care.

We were dating about 5 months when things started getting weird.

He started hanging out with his friend, the blond girl.

I still don't have a clue who she is.

He stopped writing things for me and walking my to class.

He stopped waiting at my locker.

I always asked him if something was wrong but he wouldn't say.

I missed my period.

I knew I was pregnant.

I just knew.

I took a test and of course it was positive.

I was excited to tell him.

I still thought he was in it forever.

I still thought he wanted this.

I came up to him after school.

He was with her again.

I didn't think much of it because I trusted him.

He told me they were just friends.

I had no reason to think any different.

He barely even looked at me.

She gave me a dirty look and walked away.

I started feeling scared.

Why would she do that?

What had I done?

He said he needed to talk to me.

I said I did to but for him to go first.

I didn't have a clue what was about to happen.

He said "I don't love you anymore."

I was so taken aback.

How?

When had this happened?

I started crying.

In the middle of that crowd of people.

He walked away.

I didn't stop him.

I never told him.

I left school with a friend.

We smoked ciggarettes.

I knew I shouldn't but I was addicted and young.

I didn't care about anything.

The one person who told me they would show men aren't all bad, couldn't.

About a week later I started bleeding.

Clotting.

A lot of pain.

I knew what was happening.

I didn't tell anyone.

I didn't care.

I was numb.

That was the last bit of hope inside of me.

I gave up on fighting to remain in my grandmas custody.

I gave up trying to stop myself from cutting.

I gave up trying to not chain smoke.

I just gave up on myself.

I was dating a girl named Sam then.

I didn't love her.

She gave me cigarettes.

Thats why I was there.

Eventually yet another vicious court date went around.

Accusations came up as normal.

I didn't fight back.

I let them beat me.

The judge knew my father and my fathers lawyer.

They were friends.

Money means power.

So i was returned to their custody with two months left of being 17.

I bided my time.

I enrolled in online high school.

I stayed in my room all day.

I ran away several times.

Usually because of a fight with my dad.

I started getting high.

I traded sex for cigarettes and weed.

I didn't care about my body.

My heart was stone.

Completely hard and unfeeling.

My body wasn't sacred.

God didn't exist.

Life was a hell.

That was all.

I never thought twice about my lifestyle.

I dated another boy.

I didn't ever love him.

He asked me to marry him and move to texas.

I refused and left.

Thats when everything I told you about happened.

My parents moved.

I met Bryce.

Life changed.

(If you haven't read that I would suggest doing so)

Link To That Blog

 Thank you for reading!