Issuu on Google+

My Story I grew up blindly. I thought that my life was fine and my family was perfect and I was totally happy. This came crashing down in grade 5. My dad would come home late every night, he would go on business trips every month that lasted for weeks. And my mom was left having to cope with me and my sister. Both my parents worked really long hours and we were living pay-check to pay-check. Then, one night, my mom, my sister, and I were picking up my dad from the airport after one of his trips. He came out staggering and slurring his words, cursing my mom and got into the drivers side of the car. we nearly sent another car into the ditch on that ride home. My mom kicked him out later that night. I remember waking up the next morning and asking her where my dad was. She told me he was at a hotel. And that he was an alcoholic. When he came home really late, my mom would tell me and my sister that he was working for a bonus check that would never come. Because thats not what he was doing. He would scream and yell at my mom and me. My mom told me I was like he was before the booze. And that scared me. Because I was terrified that I would end up like him. And that I would drink every night and scream at my family and abuse them. Because that’s what he did to us. I would stand in the doorway to my parents bedroom and watch my mom cry after he had stormed out. Because as much as she wanted out, she would never get it. She was too afraid. And when someone I know’s parents get divorced, my heart goes out to them, but on the inside, I’m just wishing my parents would seperate. And that the screaming would be over. But I’m just wishing for the impossible.


Grade 6 was when I developed severe depression. I attempted suicide, but I didn’t take enough pills. I never told anyone, and the next year, when I went to a new school, I kept it to myself. Grade 7 passed. Not much changed. My best friend left school for the last 3 months of the year due to depression. She couldn’t eat or sleep. I felt so alone. My second best friend had to move away with her family for 9 months. While she was gone, I made friends with another girl. I was closer with her than I had ever been with anyone. But 9 months later, when my friend came back in grade 8, she chose her over me. They became inseparable and I was a sad, lonely, depressed third-wheel. I felt like I was a second choice for everything. I felt like, “If I’m not good enough for them, who am I good enough for?” I was hurt badly by a guy I liked, and I began to starve myself. I lived on 1 meal a day, and sometimes none. I still don’t eat as much as I should, and I went to bed hungry by choice. I developed insomnia and got less than 2 hours sleep per night, I was living on energy drinks and pain-killers. This was when I started to self-harm. Not too bad at first, but it gradually got worse until my arms and thighs were covered in long, red scars. I wore sweaters and long pants. It wasn’t too bad for the winter, but summer came quickly. I kept up with long sleeves but my family started asking questions. It got really difficult. But I still tried. I later got involved in anti-bullying fundraisers with a new friend. I wore shorts and a tank top for the first time in months. She gave me the courage. She understood because she went through it too. I decided I could wear shorts and a tank top to school. I did. But it didn’t go as planned. A group of girls I hung out with noticed. We weren’t great friends, but we had fun together. I still don’t really remember how it happened, because it happened so fast. But one minute my friends were grabbing my arms and shouting and the next my old friend was dragging me to the washroom so I could cry by myself. She stepped up when I needed her most. I guess true friendship never ends. The rest of the day I could hear the words one of them


shouted ringing in my head, “SHE CUTS HERSELF!” Throughout the rest of the day I had a series of panic attacks, and I have had bad anxiety and panic attacks almost daily ever since then. That night I had the worst cutting episode of my life. I talked to them about it, and they didn’t push me to talk and I appreciate that. I managed to put away my razors for a long time, but I picked them back up again recently. I still keep falling for the same guy who hurt me. Because I know that he doesn’t even care about me, but I can’t help but running right back whenever he looks in my direction. I’m still just trying to cope. But it’s getting harder everyday. I'm stuck in a vicious cycle now. Whenever my depression gets bad, I feel worthless and starve myself, and then when I give in and eat, I feel so guilty that I cut, and after that I have panic attacks that someone will notice, and then the cycle starts over again. I need to break it, but I don't know how. -AC


My story