Perhaps for about a year before I was told by a professional I had clinical depression, I felt depressed. I cried for no reason, pushed my friends away, and overall felt sad. I thought it was just stress, or because I was a teenager and just going through a phase. One day after having a dream I tried to kill myself, I knew it wasn't a phase.
After breaking down in school the next morning before classes, and telling my friend about the dream, she took me to my school guidance counselor. After telling him about the dream, he brought in the school psychologist. From there, I had to tell them how I had been having thoughts of killing myself. Then what I feared happened: "We have to call your parents." I winced on the inside, but I knew it was going to happen sooner or later, though I would have preferred 100 years later. From there I was put on the school's suicide watch, and in order for me to be allowed on school grounds again, I had get the okay from another psychologist because I was seen as a threat to myself and others.
That psychologist became my regular therapist. After that day I began to hate myself. I hated that I had thoughts of killing myself. I hated what I'd put my parents through. But I mostly hated how I was too afraid to kill myself. Early on in my therapy sessions, it was found my father's alcoholism was one of many causes to my depression. How did I react to that? I regretted how weak I was to let that affect me so much. Overall, I blamed all that was happening on myself.
Things got worse as time went on. I'd began to have nightmares about my father's drinking, stopped eating, stopped sleeping, and most nights cried myself to sleep because of how much I didn't want to live. My boyfriend tried to help, it made me feel better how someone cared, but I could tell he didn't know what to say. Things progressed, I began getting the urge to cut, drink, and overall just die.
So, what happened? My friends and boyfriend told me I needed to open up. I needed to talk to my therapist and say what I was feeling. Did I? Not 100%, but I listened to an extent. I talked to my boyfriend when I wanted to kill myself, and that helped. I started talking to my friends about things more, got reassurance from them that people cared about me. What also really helped was finding this forum, where I could release stress.
Am I better? Not yet. I still have depressive episodes. I still get those urges and feelings. So what is the message of all this if I'm still depressed? Well, I'm happier to an extent because I reached out to people, whether it be my school counselor, friends in real life, or friends on this forum, and I got help I needed. I finally do have moments when I'm truly happy because of them. So my message is to utilize the options you have, because they're there. They're your friends, your school, Teen Hut, and even your parents. My story isn't over yet, but if I keep doing what I'm doing, I'm sure it will be someday. These things just take time.
After breaking down in school the next morning before classes, and telling my friend about the dream, she took me to my school guidance counselor. After telling him about the dream, he brought in the school psychologist. From there, I had to tell them how I had been having thoughts of killing myself. Then what I feared happened: "We have to call your parents." I winced on the inside, but I knew it was going to happen sooner or later, though I would have preferred 100 years later. From there I was put on the school's suicide watch, and in order for me to be allowed on school grounds again, I had get the okay from another psychologist because I was seen as a threat to myself and others.
That psychologist became my regular therapist. After that day I began to hate myself. I hated that I had thoughts of killing myself. I hated what I'd put my parents through. But I mostly hated how I was too afraid to kill myself. Early on in my therapy sessions, it was found my father's alcoholism was one of many causes to my depression. How did I react to that? I regretted how weak I was to let that affect me so much. Overall, I blamed all that was happening on myself.
Things got worse as time went on. I'd began to have nightmares about my father's drinking, stopped eating, stopped sleeping, and most nights cried myself to sleep because of how much I didn't want to live. My boyfriend tried to help, it made me feel better how someone cared, but I could tell he didn't know what to say. Things progressed, I began getting the urge to cut, drink, and overall just die.
So, what happened? My friends and boyfriend told me I needed to open up. I needed to talk to my therapist and say what I was feeling. Did I? Not 100%, but I listened to an extent. I talked to my boyfriend when I wanted to kill myself, and that helped. I started talking to my friends about things more, got reassurance from them that people cared about me. What also really helped was finding this forum, where I could release stress.
Am I better? Not yet. I still have depressive episodes. I still get those urges and feelings. So what is the message of all this if I'm still depressed? Well, I'm happier to an extent because I reached out to people, whether it be my school counselor, friends in real life, or friends on this forum, and I got help I needed. I finally do have moments when I'm truly happy because of them. So my message is to utilize the options you have, because they're there. They're your friends, your school, Teen Hut, and even your parents. My story isn't over yet, but if I keep doing what I'm doing, I'm sure it will be someday. These things just take time.