Ever since I was 13 I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I wouldn't believe it, I had heard so many kids preaching depression until nobody believed them. I never told anybody about my depression until I was 17. I felt like I was alone in this, and I wasn't able to take any medication until I was of age. And my counsellor at school wasn't helpful at all, unless trying to get me to dance to High School Musical was the cure. I finally began dating a guy at 16, and at 17 I finally got the guts to tell him of this mental health issue. Many people never understood how I hid it for so long, but I became very good at putting on a happy face. He turned this issue against me and used it as a weakness. He'd tell me I was fat and that no one would love me, and I stayed because I thought he was right. Finally after a lot of counselling and being put on medication I left him. Within a week he was with someone new, just because I left didn't mean I didn't feel anything. He then kept messaging me saying he loved me, in the end it became too much and I overdosed. I was in hospital on a drip for days, he never showed up. And that's when I really knew what he was like.
Not only did my overdose ruin college – they didn't think I was stable enough so I had to leave- and my job -I was handled like a china doll, delicate and breakable- it ruined me. When situations get bad I resort back to overdoses, in that moment the suicidal thoughts become extreme and real, it's an escape route. But my little sister is who I hold onto when things get tough, I cannot let her see me like that again and I can't let go for her. I don't want her to feel the pain that I do. So I live in silence with my mental illness, I don't like to talk about it and writing this blog is my way of opening up. Finally letting people in, people who understand.