Post by Kunabee on Aug 29, 2011 22:44:14 GMT -5
WELL WELL.
It all started in... oh, October, September. Okay, that's technically not true. It started in sixth grade. You know. Middle school. That time in your life that beats you and breaks you down in every way it can get its twisted hands on you. I developed a situational depression; HOWEVER, due to other events with my dad and the fact that I'm typically smiley and yaaay and already sensitive 99.9% of the time it went unnoticed.
Then, in September (maybe October) we moved. Now, we didn't move across town or country... just across a quarter mile. However, I was leaving the hosue I had known for fourteen years and my dad... well, he's not been the nicest person.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=jYa1eI1hpDE&ob=av2e <- There, and that's too nice for him.
So a month, maybe two later he threw his bike at the windows and shattered them. This scared me so bad that I can't remember everything that happened. He also threw stuff and shoved stuff around, angry at my mom, and screaming. <insert turning up music as loud as it will go here>
After all this, they seperated for six weeks but then my dad was back. It didn't get better. Oh no. He "tried", but then it totally went KABOOSH as soon as he read a blog post my mom had written on trust, and was a general jerk. Again.
So then in March, while all THIS junk was going on my grandmother died. Three weeks later, my dog died.
And then there's the suicidal thoughts. In sixth grade, every day was a misery. It was literally torture for me to go to school, and I'd come home crying and wanting to die every day. That's probably an underestimate... No joke.
So one time I did something bad and my parents saw it fit to take away my boombox. Before this, I had (and still do occasionally) gone to the knife drawer, taken out a knife, and wondered about cutting myself. But then they took away my boombox. They took away my music, which has always, always worked. So I went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife.
I was seriously considering now, and just before I had worked up my mind to stab it in my heart, my dad came in and stopped me. I cried and sat with my parents, watching TV with them, until midnight (it was a Friday). In which case, I went to my room and fell asleep listening to music.
Anyway, back to my dog's death. Now, during this time, I had looked up ways to kill myself on the computer. I instantly stopped due to music (this may be a recurring theme, music) and the very end of the music video showing a guy who was stopped from jumping off a building by a pigeon. Later on, I attempted suicide by trying to drown myself in the shower. My survival instinct is WICKEDLY strong, so it didn't work.
Later I broke down to my mom and she found a counselor for me. Now, we'd been looking for a counselor for a while - but SOMETHING would come up. This time she didn't let it. So I saw the counselor, then had my last visit, and everything was fine.
About mid-July I started becoming negative again. School was scaring me and I was starting to feel the start of self-hate. I had never, ever hated myself before. Been angry, sure. Been unconfident, sure. But hate? No, hate was something I had gotten out of. But I was angry at my dad - and, honestly, I hated him. This hate led to me being angry at myself, then hating myself. Of course the fear of my first year of high school didn't help anything.
But I will tell you this now: Actions and words have put me down. Again. And again. And again. And again.
You know those people who get a lot of blah from people? Yeah, that's me. You know all those people who are nicer then all their friends? That's me too (and my mom and several other people have told me that, so).
I have been told - to my face - that I "don't count because your (kind to/friends with) everyone." I have been ridiculed, called a crybaby, insulted because yes, I am fat, been left out, one of those people who's last picked for sports, an outsider, someone who is constantly teased. On top of all that, I don't ever give up on people, I give everyone a ton of chances, I am willing to trust everyone (however, I'm still cautious), I tell people they can always count on and come to me, I'm one of those people who's going to end up in an emotionally detrimental relationship, I feel guilty if I think even the slightest selfish thought, complain, or do anything that is not perfect, and I expect way too much of myself (I'm a perfectionist, especially when it comes to caring about others).
This leaves me sensitive, and shy - however, I do stand up for myself. It leaves me slightly scared to talk to people and worried about loosing another friend. Even though I'm the nicest out of all my friends.
BrokenTruths and the first friend I had online are exceptions to this. Sooo.
I'm currently going back to the counselor do to the stuff I mentioned in June.
Yeah.
It all started in... oh, October, September. Okay, that's technically not true. It started in sixth grade. You know. Middle school. That time in your life that beats you and breaks you down in every way it can get its twisted hands on you. I developed a situational depression; HOWEVER, due to other events with my dad and the fact that I'm typically smiley and yaaay and already sensitive 99.9% of the time it went unnoticed.
Then, in September (maybe October) we moved. Now, we didn't move across town or country... just across a quarter mile. However, I was leaving the hosue I had known for fourteen years and my dad... well, he's not been the nicest person.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=jYa1eI1hpDE&ob=av2e <- There, and that's too nice for him.
So a month, maybe two later he threw his bike at the windows and shattered them. This scared me so bad that I can't remember everything that happened. He also threw stuff and shoved stuff around, angry at my mom, and screaming. <insert turning up music as loud as it will go here>
After all this, they seperated for six weeks but then my dad was back. It didn't get better. Oh no. He "tried", but then it totally went KABOOSH as soon as he read a blog post my mom had written on trust, and was a general jerk. Again.
So then in March, while all THIS junk was going on my grandmother died. Three weeks later, my dog died.
And then there's the suicidal thoughts. In sixth grade, every day was a misery. It was literally torture for me to go to school, and I'd come home crying and wanting to die every day. That's probably an underestimate... No joke.
So one time I did something bad and my parents saw it fit to take away my boombox. Before this, I had (and still do occasionally) gone to the knife drawer, taken out a knife, and wondered about cutting myself. But then they took away my boombox. They took away my music, which has always, always worked. So I went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife.
I was seriously considering now, and just before I had worked up my mind to stab it in my heart, my dad came in and stopped me. I cried and sat with my parents, watching TV with them, until midnight (it was a Friday). In which case, I went to my room and fell asleep listening to music.
Anyway, back to my dog's death. Now, during this time, I had looked up ways to kill myself on the computer. I instantly stopped due to music (this may be a recurring theme, music) and the very end of the music video showing a guy who was stopped from jumping off a building by a pigeon. Later on, I attempted suicide by trying to drown myself in the shower. My survival instinct is WICKEDLY strong, so it didn't work.
Later I broke down to my mom and she found a counselor for me. Now, we'd been looking for a counselor for a while - but SOMETHING would come up. This time she didn't let it. So I saw the counselor, then had my last visit, and everything was fine.
About mid-July I started becoming negative again. School was scaring me and I was starting to feel the start of self-hate. I had never, ever hated myself before. Been angry, sure. Been unconfident, sure. But hate? No, hate was something I had gotten out of. But I was angry at my dad - and, honestly, I hated him. This hate led to me being angry at myself, then hating myself. Of course the fear of my first year of high school didn't help anything.
But I will tell you this now: Actions and words have put me down. Again. And again. And again. And again.
You know those people who get a lot of blah from people? Yeah, that's me. You know all those people who are nicer then all their friends? That's me too (and my mom and several other people have told me that, so).
I have been told - to my face - that I "don't count because your (kind to/friends with) everyone." I have been ridiculed, called a crybaby, insulted because yes, I am fat, been left out, one of those people who's last picked for sports, an outsider, someone who is constantly teased. On top of all that, I don't ever give up on people, I give everyone a ton of chances, I am willing to trust everyone (however, I'm still cautious), I tell people they can always count on and come to me, I'm one of those people who's going to end up in an emotionally detrimental relationship, I feel guilty if I think even the slightest selfish thought, complain, or do anything that is not perfect, and I expect way too much of myself (I'm a perfectionist, especially when it comes to caring about others).
This leaves me sensitive, and shy - however, I do stand up for myself. It leaves me slightly scared to talk to people and worried about loosing another friend. Even though I'm the nicest out of all my friends.
BrokenTruths and the first friend I had online are exceptions to this. Sooo.
I'm currently going back to the counselor do to the stuff I mentioned in June.
Yeah.
