Saving Yourself

I don't know where to start. I dont know how to say it, but I need to. It's been about a month and I've only just started to think about it openly. So bear with me here or get lost (in a really nice park with pretty trees or a McDonalds playland). This is the story of me from start to present, but certainly not the end.

For those of you who don't know my names Colleen. Hey. Nice to talk to you or well type to you. You're all probably aware of cutting or self-injury. I know I have for about 4 or 5 years now. It had kinda popped into my head but I never followed through with it.

And then my family moved and no that's not when it started. I lost my two best friends and i lost my home. That's when my depression I guess is what you'd call it started. I was the new kid at the private catholic school with a giant class size of 12...now 13. I was a little umm...over the top? Strange? But my own person. I was the outsider for a couple of months and then I started to make friends. But it wasn't as easy as it sounds. I cried myself to sleep almost every night. And then things got better. Really they did. I survived 7th grade and lived it up in 8th.

And thus we come to high school. Freshman year. I started with no best friend (i did dumb shit and it caught up with me. I guess karma was ready to collect it's toll or something.) and I knew no one. I ran cross country to meet people and yea I made friends but I was never really one of them. And then I found some people I really liked but I was still kind of the outsider. But just wait it didn't start there either. I was lonely all the time. And then summer rolled around. It was going to be the best you know? Meet some boys, try some shit, maybe do something I'd regret.

But I didn't. Instead I isolated myself. I was alone outside of my family for pretty much 3 months except this game. And that's when problems started. I made friends on here and they all did it. And I was alone all the time. I'd stay up all hours and sleep during the day. I became nocturnal. I heard this one quote the other day it went something like isolation kills dreams, kills the soul, kills everything. And it couldn't be more right. I was alone and suddenly I was more depressed than I had ever been. And suddenly cutting myself seemed like a good idea. I mean everybody else did it. Maybe it worked maybe I'd be more like everyone else if I did it. That is honestly the reason why. I've had so many people ask me why lately and that's what I came up with. Because I thought it would fix it. And I wish I had a good reason like my parents beat me or I was sexually abused. But no it was self-inflicted isolation.

And once it started it kept going. It was an addiction. I had to. At least once a day. It became such a habit. All I wore was long sleeves. I'd cut my wrist, my arm, my hip, anything I could. And then came that one night. I wanted to die. I wanted to so badly. I found a steak knife and had it pressed to my wrist. I wanted to slit my throat, but I cut my hair instead. Throughout all of this I kept a notebook I wrote poems in. And then
Sometime about a month ago I decided to quit. I was so sick if everything. I gathered all of the stuff I had ever used up. I placed it in a bag and wrote a note explaining everything and how I planned to quit. I went on a bike ride and left all of this in the forest preserve and then the worst thing in the world happened.

Someone found it and called the cops. They stopes me on my way home and called my parents. They took my bike apart, took my phone, patted me down, and put me in the back of the squad car. I can't even explain how I felt but I was shaking the whole time. They called the paramedics and I was taken to the ER. I was observed for hours and talked to a social worker. No one believed me that I had to quit. Not one person. And then they suggested therapy, but my mom wanted an outpatient program. 3 weeks no school all day therapy for this. Somehow I escaped it though. I'm now in regular therapy. But I never tell the truth. Why? Because I want out as soon as possible and if requires lies so be it. But the thing is I'll always have those scars. They're a part of me now and I dont know if I can imagine ever wearing short sleeves again. I'm ashamed that I did this. I'm in a better place now. I wish I could have seen all the good back then. I was so focused on the negative and the hope that someone else would come save me from this, but help never came. In the end it comes down to the fact that sometimes the only person who can save you is you. If you're still with me thanks. I needed to tell someone. Talk to me, message me, comment, whatever. I'll help you if that's what you need or if you have questions. I don't care. So I think that's it. Good luck and get out there being born because if you're not busy being born you're busy dying.

 

Bump

 

Bump?