I came across this site and figured it would be a great way to vent and get some support. I figured I would start off my journal telling you all about who I am and what caused my major depression.

I was 14 when it all began. I was in grade 9 and was mostly friends with boys. One night one classmate sexually assaulted me. I kept trying to push him away yet he continued to feel me up and steal kisses when I didn't want any of it. After the ordeal I ran home, and quickly told my older brother. I started to cry a lot and my school work slowly became lousy. I was getting a lot of detentions and started drinking. Three months later I was raped, by an 18 year old. I cried through the whole ordeal. I laid there, lifeless, as he told me what to do. Once again, I cried. He put his hands around my throat. After the incident I went home and locked myself in the bathroom, filled up the tub and just cut myself. I cried. I cried a lot. I felt disgusting and ugly.

I kept it to myself though. After the sexual assault the boy was brought to the school counselors office to be questioned. He lied about the whole thing and turned everything on me. I was annoyed and frustrated. I walked the halls with no one to talk to and I was a laughing joke for months. He even threatened to take me to court. My parents talked about it for a day then pretended it never even happened.

I had to battle it alone. I hung out with one girl who was suicidal as well. As I was trying to save her, I was trying to save myself. Everyday was a constant battle for me. Waking up was a nightmare. By Feb.2005 my mother found me in my room, bawling. I had 'Hold On' on repeat. I refused to talk to her. She read the note I had in my hand then demanded to see my wrists. They were exposed. Fresh cuts, scars and dry blood. We went for a walk, and when she asked me what was wrong I just stated, "I want to die." I witnessed my mother's heart break for the first time, in a million pieces. I was the cause of it. I continued to cut. I seen a therapist but she told me I can't have depression. I am too young to feel this empty. My mom and I started fighting a lot. To this day we still don't get along.

After a year I stopped taking the medications. By the time I turned 17 I began abusing alcohol. I was the girl at the bar double fisting beer and drinking whiskey out of the bottle at parties. I drank myself nearly to death several times, yet I didn't stop. After my 18th, a few friends and I went out for a friends 18th. The birthday girl ended up spending most the night beside my hospital bed. I don't recall going into the bar that night or leaving. I was vomiting constantly and could barely even respond to anyone. I was unconscious. When my friends parents seen me lying on their lawn, pale as can be they quickly told the girls to take me to the hospital. When I came to I was in a wheelchair in the waiting room. Drunk still. I began to yell at the girls to take me home. The nurse brought me to a bed. My friend had to strip me and put on my gown, I couldn't do it. I tried ripping out my IV, and I cried until I fell asleep. The nurses told me if my friends brought me any later I'd have to get my stomach pumped. It took me a month, and then I was drinking again. My next incident I didn't go to the hospital, because my friends were too scared to dial 911. They found me on the sidewalk, and I was barely breathing. They were at the house party I crashed after bar hopping that night. I drank a bottle of goldshlager, half a bottle of jameson, shots, beer and whiskey on the rocks that night. I couldn't even bring myself to puke but I wasn't seeing the light at the end of the tunnel either.

Before I made my big move back to Ottawa I ended up in the hospital, 3 days before. I was rushed by ambulance. I drank half a bottle of JD before the bar and rhum & coke, shots & beer at the bar. I don't remember leaving the bar. I was just face down on the sidewalk & my vision just blurred. I couldn't move. I couldn't feel a thing. Everyone around me was a blur. I know they were all yelling something, I just couldn't make it out. I just blurred out .. "call 911 .. I am going to die." Someone called 911 and saved my life that night. I was rushed to the hospital by ambulance. I remember asking for my older brother. I think they were slightly getting frustrated with me, but I fell asleep and then came to when the nurses were poking me with needles. WRONG time to wake up, I began fighting them. They had to hold me down to give me needles. They poked me everywhere cause they had a hard time finding my veins, I was dehydrated. I woke up with bruises. I played with my IV, cried a bit, looked at the moniters.. I just wanted to fucking leave. The nurses came every now and then to check on me. They didn't even let me leave to let me go to the bathroom. I didn't have my glasses, and I lost my flats at the bar. All I had was the strapless black dress I wore out the night before.

They let me leave around 7PM.. my older brother came to get me with my mum. They were angry I was hospitalized again for my drinking. My mother drove me to drink, but I never told her that. I crawled back in bed when I got home, I was bed bound the next two days. What bothered me the most was that when the ambulance came they found me half naked laying on the sidewalk. I don't remember anything from that night. The nurses told me if this happens again, they doubt I'll be breathing.

I wrote to my mother last month. A nice 5page letter of everything I've felt since I was 14. How she acts different with me. I'll share that letter tomorrow. But after that I had this huge meltdown after calling home after that, cause everyone is just simply putting my mental illness under a rug, as if I never had it to begin with. My mother told me she doesn't want to deal with me anymore. She doesn't want a relationship with me. I had a huge meltdown at work the afternoon I called to speak to dad. He told me I shouldn't have sent her the letter, when he knows how bad we get along. He's seen it all. He always had my back. My nose just bled, hardcore. It just was pouring. I just couldn't believe I let my mother stress me out that much. I visited the doctor after that.

I am on Celexa again, and I have to see a therapist. I haven't seen him yet. I won't lie, I am a little scared.

Overall, I show people I don't know a different side of me. At school I surround myself with people who love to laugh, who love life. I feed off their positive energy. I wish I can see the world in colors like they do. I am 22 years old and struggle everyday. I started cutting again last month. I wanted to feel the pain again physically. I just don't want to feel empty anymore. I am sick of this feeling of nothingness around my heart. I want to feel whole again.