Insight

A Story by Ink

A personal essay. Please give feedback.

Insight

I never thought I’d let myself write about myself. I had a rule for a while that it was wrong to do anything self-absorbed. Over time so much has happened so I thought it would be okay to share. I’m sure I’m not the only person who can relate to my experiences. Or maybe it could help as an insight to something. Maybe it will help me overall, maybe I’ll learn something. As I write this I fear that this will show me as bragging or special. I am neither, just a person living. We all are after all, just living.

When I was younger I used to think that the world was made of dots, and if we tried hard enough we could find something beyond the world. I used to lay in my bed at night trying to reach beyond until I slept. Or I would create a new world, with people and things and watch it play out. I did this in school too, whenever I was bored.

I had friends in school and they were always very interesting. We played behind the big tree in the school yard. It became the ghost tree and we made many stories around it. Even when I was younger I had problems getting them to know what I meant. I could say something but the meaning was always different to them. To them the games were just pretend, to me they were a wish. In the games, I was bigger and better and I knew myself and things made sense. I always confused myself and it angered me. I would want to play but I wouldn’t want to play. I would like her but hate her. I didn’t know how to deal with my contradicting spirit or how to explain it. People would point it out but not tell me how to simplify it. People pointed out a lot of things; how I was intense, mature for my age, I felt big emotions, how I was serious, how I was different, how I didn’t color in the lines or how I liked to talk. I never knew how to deal with them telling me these things. I wanted to say

“But why? Why am I different? Why do the kids at school not know what to say to me sometimes? Why do my teachers not know how to answer my questions? Why is it like this?”

Over time, the lack of validation or knowing hurt me. I tried to fit in for a while but it was hard and I hated how I sounded and I did not like those people who were my friends. I concealed rage, hurt and confusion. Whenever I outlasted at my family or was in time out I would cry for hours and scream and not let it go. My family did not know how to deal with these huge emotions and long bouts of screaming. They kept me in time out longer, because they thought it could stop this behavior. It did not. And it hurt, feeling confused a lot.

When I learned of pain caused by others, I felt bad. I felt wrong for hurting within myself when others were beaten or raped or worse. When someone close to me expressed their experience with this kind of man made pain and the struggle they had to live with, I decided I had to stay quiet and never complain about myself because to me this was worse. I developed rules for talking and how to socialize. These were; Talk about them more, help them more, don’t brag, make them special, love them and they won’t leave. But people are people and I did not know I could not control them. So, I got hurt. When I lost a friend, I felt like I was betrayed by myself and the guilt was unbearable. There were times I wanted to rip my face off so I never could hurt anyone again. Even though the hurt was on me, I thought I did it.

I always did good in school, I loved learning and books. I liked information and research. I always did extra projects at home so I could learn. I tried using facts to control my life at one point but this soon gave away to the pain. The facts were soothing but not enough.

I went a couple therapists but I felt like they couldn’t read my words. I would say something but mean something more. I never knew how to say it right. Many times, they just thought I was just emotional or going through puberty and very smart. I wanted to say;

“I’m not smart I just like learning and it hurts more than anger and I know it is more and I know it can’t go away on its own please help me.”

But I never did. I didn’t know how. As it grew into adolescence I broke down more, crying and hurting. Experiences added to it such as bullying, and loss. At one point, I cried in a therapist’s office and they looked at me and said, “you’re really hurting, aren’t you?” and I was too suffocated by the pain to nod.

Life went on and things happened. A friend of mine turned into an enemy and was hurt by them through words and online videos of me. They pressured me to die and I was hospitalized for suicidal thoughts. Depression they said. PTSD they said. Medication they said. I took my pills and the diagnoses and it felt worse knowing they were wrong inside. I was hospitalized again for the same thing. They gave me a Serotonin Inhibitor (Anti-depressant) and it made me drugged and slow and unaware. I was taken of that once I got home by a Psychiatrist. They said PTSD. I then changed schools to get away from the bullies. I survived for six months before I took 8 Advil as a ‘suicide attempt’, I did it as a cry for help or a scream. They just hospitalized me again and said Mood, Maybe Bipolar, Maybe Depression, Maybe Anxiety, More medication. It was the same and I sunk into life again.

I started to have violent outbursts. I thought it would help them get it. It just scared them. I got hospitalized 2 more times. At the last time, we went to another place. They ended up restoring my hope in myself and I learned who I was again. The medication changed and it seemed to help me think more before making things worse.

I still have trouble talking, I still have a hard time in museums, my emotions are still big and so is my imagination. I do art now and It helps me communicate to the world. I am in therapy and I invest a lot into helping myself and having a good life. I want to be a neuro scientist and I want to have a herd of sheep and a 125-gallon saltwater tank and a nice farm. I have a lot of awesome friends and I love learning about them. I love learning the stories of people. We experience so much, it is amazing. Life is not perfect but I have learned how to experience it the best I can.

Overall, I wrote this too relate. I know I’m not the only one. I met many people in hospitals like me. Our problems might not be the same and our lives our different but we can still relate a support each other. Everyone needs a friend and support is very useful. Everyone suffers, and it doesn’t always need a name. So, if you are human you deserve support. This was my story, I hope it helps someone in some way.