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17
Oct

Beginning?

I guess to start, I'm 20. I was originally diagnosed with clinical depression in my early teen years. It's hereditary so I had no hope. It wasn't always hard, for the most part it was manageable. Some days I was just sad. But last year it all changed. I was stuck in an extremely unhealthy relationship and the further I let myself go the more depressed I became. I was making completely irriational impulsive decisions and then I'd spend hours, days, weeks trying to fix whatever I disrupted. I kept trying to solve a permanent problem with easy, quick solutions. I realized how lost I'd become when I woke up in a hospital room because of an intentional overdose. It was a week before my nineteenth birthday. That day is not one I will ever forget easily. I don't really think anyone, myself included, really realized just how messed up I was. Honestly, I still am. But I'm fighting to be more than my depression.

I guess the best place to start is at the beginning, if anyone is actually reading this I hope that you do not judge my actions negatively. I am not proud of who I was, but everyone makes mistakes.

 

I was a freshman in college, living the dorm life. My boyfriend had just broken up with me for another girl after we both cheated on each other. I was really distraught, but with the help of school and really good friends I got through it just like any other breakup. But really it was anything but that. My first semester I was talking to one of my best friends who lived in another state. Because he lived so far away neither of us expected anything so we saw other people too. But I went to see him for his birthday and we made it "official." My weekend with him seems almost like a dream now. And as every vacation is it was over way too soon. The next day, I was doing some homework and I got a text message. It was from my ex. He wanted to meet up and talk. He wanted to apologize for how everything ended. I was at a loss for words. I had no idea what to do. Of course, I made the wrong decision thinking it would be good to be friends, I went to talk to him. All of my feelings came rushing back and it was awful. I ended up breaking my best friend's heart to be with this asshole who cheated on me and broke my heart because I believed he was truly sorry. That is my biggest regret. That one decision turned my entire life upside down.

 

Within a week I was no longer going to school, I had quit my job and was living with him. I relied on him for money, rides, a home. When I talk about my relationship with him I make it seem like it was this miserable time in my life, and it was. But for the most part, I was convinced I was happy. Although we always fought, I truly believed that that was who I was meant to spend my life with and that thought made me happy. Temporary solution. Permanent problem. So nothing worked out how I wanted. And after a couple of months of just a dreary existence, and a week long fighting streak I grew some balls and left. I moved out. And I ended it. I confessed how I was feeling to my family and they suggested I go to a health clinic for a while to recover because it was obvious how messed up I was. I agreed that it was a good idea, but I was denied admittance because I was not suicidal. As a result, we found a doctor for me and I started taking a low dosage of Prozac. I also began a crusade to get my now ex back. I have no idea what was wrong with me, looking back now I hate myself. I continued to "put out" while he toyed with my heart and kept telling me we would work things out and continued to sleep with other women. After a month of this nonsense, we went to a gay prom. I borrowed a dress from my aunt so I would look hot, as a last ditch attempt to get him to realize what he was missing. It was two days later that I swalled 19 Xanax and told my best friend that I loved him.

 

Thankfully, he really was my best friend and immediately knew something was wrong. He rushed to my house and called an ambulance. He saved my life and I'm forever indebted to him.

 

I was prepared for death that morning. I was tired of hurting everyone I came into contact with, and I was tired of hurting myself. In those few moments, every ounce of me believed I was doing the right thing. I remember one memory very vividly from that day: I blinked open my eyes, I was in and out of conciousness for a while, and I remember my grandmother pushing my hair behind my ear and whispering, "Why?" I looked her right in the eye andvery casually told her just to let me go to sleep and not make me wake up. That I was doing what was best for everyone and not to worry about me anymore. The river of tears that fell down her face is an image that will forever be burned into my brain. I never want to hurt anyone like that again.

 

Over the past year and a half, I have made some bad decisions, made some good ones, been up, been down. I met someone I honestly believe to be the love of my life. (That's a blog for another day.) But depression is still a part of my life. Every morning when I wake up I make a decision to be more than my depression. I make a concious effort to be happy. I'm one of the lucky ones.

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