When I was 9 years old I was taken away from my mother because she was and is a raging alcoholic and cocaine addict. I kept a journal and hid it in my underwear drawer. My father came to visit me where I was staying, his sister’s house in upstate NY, and he found it. He read it. He read it to my Aunt and her husband, my Uncle. As a 9 year old who came from the situation I was in with my mother, I did go through sexual abuse and although my Uncle never touched me, I was on high alert and wrote these things in my journal. I didn’t like that he had Maximum, Playboy, and other magazines in the family bathroom. I mean, do men really take a shit and look at titties? Like, really? So, I got in trouble for my private journal. I had to write an apology letter and read it to them instead of them chucking it up to a young troubled girl’s private journal becoming public knowledge by her psycho father. Well, that’s not how it went down.

So now, as a 28 year old, I still can’t write a journal. I freeze. The Microsoft Document is either black space or contains some sort of prose to express my feelings which I do maybe twice a year. I know my Mac is password protected, my Document can be also, and still I feel the heat of that moment and I’ll never forgive my father for it yet, it’s a topic never discussed. So here’s my chance, I guess, to be anonymous and write if I feel able.

Yes, I am depressed and have anxiety and ADD. And no, I didn’t just “get” ADD once in University again. I was taking ADD medicine months before I even considered, let alone applied to school, so as I hope this is a welcoming community without a need to defend myself or my brain chemistry, I want to let that be known. And no, I don’t abuse ADD medicine in lieu of school so if anyone starts telling me that addiction is genetic, thanks I’ve heard that a million times, I have no absolutely no addiction problems so maybe I hit the jackpot on not having that gene. Yes, I have done my time with some substances everyday but stopped on my own and with no support and that’s my personality, when I’m done with something or someone, I’m fucking done. Not even my family know I ever had (3) separate instances of daily use of something. I am here for help with my depression and anxiety and nothing more, and definitely not hear a fucking lecture I clearly did NOT ask for about addiction.

For those interested in my cocktail my doctor prescribes (and let it be known I have no insurance and the government won’t help me with this nor do I have money for a plan without working and now finishing my Bachelor degree), I take: Adderall in the Morning, Lexapro, Lamictal, and Gabapentin at Night, as instructed by my psychiatrist. I’m not in therapy, as I said I have no insurance or income right now, and I have been in therapy for years over my life and found it to be zero help and a complete waste of time. This most likely mirrors the journal reading incident as I have since built up very high and thick walls and it takes a long time for me to open up to someone. I believe therapy can work but only if you are willing to implement the suggested changes and not withhold information like I was never ready to do.

Music is my therapy. I went to a specialized high school in NYC for vocal music and love to sing. I love music, it’s my life blood. Without music I most certainly wouldn’t be alive today. Unfortunately, I can’t write lyrics which pains me to not be able to create the thing I love most in this world.