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So much has happened in my life in the past few months.
I am not who I used to be. As a matter of fact, I have no idea who I am anymore. Who I am is not who I want to be and I need to keep making changes. I have to keep trying because I've already tried the alternative and it didn't work. It will not work.
At the beginning of this summer, I moved home and got very depressed. I was having extreme mood swings and really bad anxiety. My mom suggested I go to therapy and I figured I'd give it a shot. Appointments once a week.. I always felt like a disaster. Therapists are supposed to help but I can never connect with them. It's not like they give you advice.. they just listen. I know sometimes all you need is for someone to listen, I just couldn't figure out how to say what I wanted. Everything is so bottled up inside of me that I often have a hard time explaining even the simplest feelings.
I was put on an anti-depressant called Celexa. It was one of those meds that takes a few months to actually start working. 2 months went by and I felt the same. My anxiety attacks were getting worse. I didn't even want to leave the house. Dylan tried to help me by getting me enrolled in some summer classes. I moved back to BG but I still felt empty. My doctor changed my meds- Klonapin 3 times a day, Prozac once.
For the first few weeks I was on these drugs, my body seemed to completely refuse it. For almost 2 weeks straight, I'd get extremely naucious and throw up. My emotions were temporary blinded by physical discomfort. The start of the school year came soon enough. I moved in with Kristin and our apartment was everything we thought it'd be.
I was working a lot and going to school full time. I was going through the motions but I didn't feel like I was living. I began to feel so self-loathing that nothing would stimulate me. Nothing was funny. Nothing seemed promising. One day, I decided I needed relief. I spent $40 on cocaine and did it all alone. I'd never felt joy like this before. I was alone and I was content, happy even. That's never happened to me before. I was so baffled and blinded by the feeling that I was hooked from that point on.
For the next week I lived very carelessly. I got a $500 refund check. I spent $400 on coke and the other $100 on miscellanious bullshit. I did coke when ever and where ever I could. Whenever I wasn't high, I felt so empty. So scared and confused and sick.
One night, my roommate and I agreed that we'd hang out later in the evening. I told her I got off work at 10 and she said she'd be home around the same time. I sat at home for a few hours after work and Kristin never came home. I decided I'd get fucked up. I took 10 klonapin. I snorted as much coke as I could. I started drinking. Kristin came home around 2 and went right to bed.
I felt so lonely and despondent. I remember sitting on the carpet balling. From this point on I am going off of Kristin's word because it's all very fuzzy in my mind. At 3 am I called Kristin and told her I needed help. I was sitting in the bath tub in my pj's, balling so hard. Kristin said I had cut and written all over my legs. I kept saying I fell and I was sorry. I made Kristin roll and blunt and I babbled on about how my life was meaningless. How I had nothing and no one. How I couldn't make myself happy or feel good without coke.
I tried to go on a drive but Kristin wouldn't let me. She got me to go to bed and I tried to get up and leave again. Finally I fell asleep and the next day I was awoken by my parents. It was 7 pm. I'd slept through all of my classes and work. My parents took me to the hospital. My mom wasn't shocked because the medications had a disclaimer:: "ages 18 to 24 may develop suicidal tendancies".
Once I arrived at the hospital, I had to talk to a nurse and I basically denied the entire incident. I demanded my mother leave the room because I am legal and didn't want them to hear her input. I was so angry and confused and upset. I made my parents take me to Dylans because all I wanted to do was smoke.
When I got there, Kristin was already there, crying on the couch. We argued and argued and I told her I'd get help.. soon. The next day I had all my friends over for dinner because I figured I was going away for a while. I took all the rest of my prozac, did all the rest of my coke, and cooked dinner for everyone else. I decided to drink instead of eating. I was very upset.
Everyone was trying to comfort me. I just didn't feel anything but emptiness. Self-loathing thoughts surrounded me and swallowed everything I had inside of me. Soon enough, everyone went home. My thoughts were racing and my body was shaking. I went into the bathroom, took my coke razor, and sliced my arm as hard as I possibly could. I remember walking out and blood was dripping everywhere. Kristin started screaming and I started crying. I kept saying I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. All I wanted was for the pain to stop. I wanted my life to stop.
Kristin called 911 and the ambulance came. I was taken to Wood County hospital and I got 7 stiches. I was then transported to Toledo Flower Hospital. I spent a week in the psych ward.
Once I got out of the hospital, I had to move back home. I lost everything. My job, my friends, school. I've been living in Allen Park for over a month now. My days are dragging and I'm not sure if my mind is healing.
I was home for about a week and I was supposed to have an appointment with my new psychologist. Needless to say, I was still feeling very negative and out of my mind. I refused to go. I didn't want to deal with doctors or hospitals or medicine anymore. My parents and I argued forever about it. I tried to just get up and leave. My dad tried to physically restrain me and we started to wrestle. After a few minutes, I became enraged and was fighting him with everything I had in me.
My mom got scared and called 911. The police showed up and gave me all these options. Every option they named somehow involved the hospital. I refused everything and was then arrested for domestic violence. I was taken to jail. Mug shots, finger prints, the whole sha-bang. I stayed 24 hours in an Allen Park holding cell. All they give you is a juicebox and a bible.
I was so out of my mind. I cried the majority of the time. When I first got there, I was banging my arms as hard as I could on the wall. I was so desperate I thought of hanging myself from the sink with my socks. I tried to collect call everyone and no one was answering. The next day I had a court date. I plead not guilty and the conditions of my bond were that I wasn't aloud to see or talk to my parents at all. My mom paid my $300 bail and Dakota had to come pick me up.
I stayed the night with him and the next morning I attended therapy. My mom talked to the detective on my case and he was able to change the conditions. I got to come home. Max's dad was my lawyer and my case ended up getting dropped. It was a very disheartening experience.
Ever since, I feel like I've just had so much down time to dwell on all the things I did wrong. The twists and turns that have lead me here. I feel like every day is a constant struggle to keep my sanity and dignity. I feel stability yet uncertainty. I just want my life back. I want to know who I am and what I value. I want assurance.
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sefifteen's journal
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. Nice marketing ploy!
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