“I don’t want to die. Sometimes I wish I had never been born at all.” ~Queen
Am I suicidal? No. Now, as a 32 year old adult, I know that I was never suicidal. But, as I look over my life, I wasn’t always so sure. I, and everyone in my life, thought I was at one point. So much so that I spent a short time within therapy as an attempt to over come the needs to end my life. But I am getting ahead of things.
A Sophomore in High School, I know nothing. That is easy to admit now – years later. I was fight with my mother more than I need to, and my world wasn’t happy. Even at my lowest weight in my life, I was constantly made fun of. Seen as the ‘fat girl’. No one would date me. Even through I was well endowed for my age, I didn’t have the breast of my best friend, but she really didn’t want hers – they were massive and she spent a lot of time in pain. I was ‘overweight’ at 150 pounds. The odd white girl among the barely 100 white kids in my school. Freshman year, I was one of 14 white kids in the whole school.
The guys I dated were normally long distances, because I didn’t think guys could like me in person. I still struggle with this idea. When a guy did like me, I normally thought where odd or crazy. Thank you John for noticing me Freshman/Sophomore year. I wish I had enjoyed it more and dated you.
After some random sad event in my life, I went into school and told a friend I tried to commit suicide last night. I don’t believe my friend even blinked an eye. We were all depressed teens. Many of us thought about no longer dealing with our lives.
The teacher, on the other hand, heard. She said nothing and started class. She was a long term sub, and after this day I never saw her again. I don’t even remember her name. After class she went to the nurse, principal, or someone, and told them that I was suicidal. I later found out that her daughter had attempted suicided a few weeks before and was placed into the hospital because of it.
Sitting in the nurses office with my secret out, as they told my parents (mother), I started the longest journey of my life. Understanding my depression. Almost 20 years later, I am still struggling with this battle.
I know now I wasn’t suicidal. I was a ‘cutter’. This term did not exist then. At least not in mainstream culture. It is a need to inflict pain to your body to control your emotions – and something in general. I would never want to die. The idea of leaving my mother childless was enough for me to continue with my life.
But exist? There are still days I would like to stop existing. To never be born. To never feel the way I feel daily. That is the depression talking.
I am still the over weight, odd white girl I was at 15, but now I know that isn’t a bad thing. I am smart. There is nothing I can’t learn or figure out. I am creative. I can creative an immersive worlds. And paint a decent picture.
I am loyal and loving. Things hurt deep for me. So deep I get angry and feel things for years afterward. I am a loyal friend, and this gets me hurt more than it should, but that is who I am.
I was all that at 15, but it took almost 20 years to figure out that I am worth living and existing.