control

A Story by jaimebell

I was really sad. You have to understand that before I start. I don't want you to think that I did this for attention or pity. I didn't. I was very truly intensely sad. You don't have to understand

I was really sad. You have to understand that before I start. I don't want you to think that I did this for attention or pity. I didn't. I was very truly intensely sad. You don't have to understand it, you don't have to believe it, you definitely don't have to like it, but you need to accept it... I need you to accept it.
It all started junior year, the year Julie moved away. While I was walking through the door of my school I remember feeling like a freshman all over again. I was alone and nervous and afraid. I had no one, so I decided I that I was sick of the idea of needing people. I hated this ridiculous idea that we can't fend for ourselves. I didn't see why I couldn't be perfectly happy by myself. Obviously you see the error in my angsty teen philosophy, quick note: you need other people, don't purposefully drive people away because you don't think you do, because you definitely do, please talk to people.

You see that was also the year my brain decided that I didn't need to be happy, it strapped a ten pound bag of flour on my head and coated my eyesight with a dim film. I was depressed. Let me assure you I'm not using the word "depressed" lightly either. It literally felt like part of the brain that produces joy completely shut down. So not only was I alone, I was depressed. Remember, I decided I didn't need people, so did I talk to anyone about it? no. Of course not, because at that point nobody would've even cared enough to listen. I blocked them out. I blocked everyone out. I decided that I could fix this problem myself. And of course because my decision making skills are just so amazing I turned to drugs and alcohol. They helped me feel something, they took that bag of flour and threw it on the ground...even if it was only for a couple of hours.

I don't want you to think I'm proud of that, I'm not, the morning after was always hell... I'd feel worse than I did before I took anything. And every morning after that bag was one pound heavier. Nothing was helping, I'd go to bed each night dreading the next morning, and I'd wake up each morning dreading getting out of bed. I didn't want to face reality anymore... I didn't want to face anything anymore.

So that's why you're here reading this. Please don't blame yourself, this is not your fault. I didn't want to come to you, I wanted to be strong I didn't want to ask for help... I should've asked for help. My entire life was being controlled by my depression and my addiction, I wasn't in control of my own body, I wasn't in control of what I did or felt. That alone was worse than everything I'd been through times a million. I needed to feel in control of something again. I'm sorry. I'll say hi to mom.

love, lily.