Autobiographical Incident

Another school assignment.

It’s 5pm on a Monday and I’m on my way to therapy. Most kids I know are at home watching TV or doing homework or out with their friends. But no, not me.

So far: 8 months of therapy and 9 months of medication. I never thought I would be that person- the crazy one.

How did I end up like this? Why am I the crazy girl? No, not crazy- mentally-ill.

Let’s rewind a little.

First there was my mom and dad. Then I came along. My dad left and now there’s just my mom and me.

Now, what does that have to do with anything?

Well, I’ll tell you.

My problem: Abandonment

My diagnosis: Major Depression Disorder

I used to think, subconsciously, that my dad left me. He left me because there was something wrong with me. He left me because he didn’t want me. He left me because I wasn’t good enough.

Throughout elementary and middle school, I never paid much attention to my dad not being around. I had lots of friends that cared about me, and at the time, that was enough to make me forget about my dad.

When high school came around, everything changed. I had just moved to Irvine the summer before freshman year and I had no friends. I worried that nobody would like me or want to be my friend. I thought that maybe, I wouldn’t be good enough for the kids here.

That first year was tough. I lived through it, but just barely. I was anorexic and I was constantly changing to make people like me. After several talks with my school counselor, my self image problems improved and I began eating normally. But what happened over the summer was nothing compared to my anorexia.

Isolation. That was my entire summer. I was in Florida, away from my friends, both old and new. I was with my grandparents and baby sister, but nobody my own age. I spent most of my time reading or blogging, just wallowing in my loneliness. Bad idea.

When I returned to California, I was still alone. All of my friends were busy so I couldn’t hang out with them. I stayed home alone everyday just watching movies and shows on Netflix and one day, my loneliness became too much.

I was just sitting at my desk and I began crying uncontrollably. I was balling and my mind was going crazy. I was thinking a million thoughts a second and they were all about how alone I was and how I didn’t have anyone that cared about me. I picked up the sharpest thing I could find at the moment, a pair of scissors, and began scratching away at my wrist. When I finally saw a drop of crimson red blood slip out of the scratch, I stopped. I washed off my arm and the scissors and sat on my bed, thinking about what I had just done. I felt horrible about it. But not horrible enough to want to stop.

Eventually, cutting became an addiction for me. Every time some little upsetting thing happened, I pulled out my scissors and added another cut to my collection.

This lasted about a month. I finally confessed this addiction to my school counselor and she sent me home. I wasn’t allowed back at school until I was seen by a doctor.

My mom found a psychiatrist for me and I was diagnosed with Major Depression Disorder. But we didn’t know what had caused it. I was put on medication and sent home.

I returned to school and everything was fine until exactly one week after my birthday. I was beginning to feel neglected and unwanted and I needed a way to get attention. My solution?

Suicide.

Did I really want to die? No. Did I still want to live? Yes. Then why would I try to kill myself? I was in emotional pain that couldn’t understand. I was tired of living, but at the same time, I still wanted to live.

My suicide attempt landed me in a psychiatric hospital for 72 hours and afterwards, therapy.

So here I am now. In therapy. Every Monday at five. And here I will be until I am deemed “cured” of my illness.

And it all started with my dad leaving...

Author's Note

Please let me know of any grammatical errors or any suggestions for improvement.

Reviews

[SSB]

Alex Thomas, another powerful and realistic piece of writing. I can't say I "enjoyed" it because of the heaviness of content, but it's definitely very well-written and emotive stuff. The last line struck me. It's the same as the theme of a story I wrote recently. Of course my story is not nearly as powerful as your writing here. I was only using it as a plot to demonstrate something else. But what a coincidence. Thanks for sharing!