I’ve struggled with depression since around September last year. Nothing was really affected from it, my grades in school were just fine. I think it was because of my stress, I had such high expectations for myself so I always made sure I had good grades, otherwise I’d feel low and beat myself up for it. I was able to cover it up pretty well with my friends. If they ever noticed anything wrong, they didn’t badger me about it. I began feeling like nobody cared, because they didn’t press and push me if it didn’t seem like I really meant it when I said I was just fine. Only a few people honestly knew what I was going through then, and none of us knew what to do.

Near the end of December, after my 15th birthday, I seriously began S.I. I couldn’t take it anymore. I honestly felt like self-harming was the only way out of the emotional pain I was going through. It only hurt me more. I was so ashamed after what I did, knowing my friends/family would be disappointed that I hadn’t gone to them with my problems. Although I meant for it to stay a secret, I told one of my best friends and she eventually forced me to tell my parents about it. That was the most terrifying thing I had ever had to do in my life, tell my parents, especially my father, that I had injured myself on purpose. Being a mere child, I treasure my family’s opinion of me, so I didn’t know what they would think when I told them.

But I did it. I told them. I don’t know how I did it, I believe it was God who gave me the strength to tell my dad. I just knew it was time to change. Now, most of my friends know about my S.I. and they’ve helped to support me so much.

But I still fear. I especially fear the future. A lot of my friends are going through or had gone through depression and S.I. before. And I feel as if some of my other friends are on the verge of getting stuck in it. There’s so much stress, so much tension between all my friends. It seems like we’re all struggling to get through high school, and I’m absolutely terrified of anything happening to any of my friends. After all I’ve gone through, I’ve realized how selfish it is to hate myself, to want to die. I am so blessed, with clothes, food and water, friends and family that love me, a supportive church, and an education. Although I am the very definition of outcast at my school, it doesn’t matter what those people think. They don’t care about me, so why should it matter to me what they think about me?

My basic point is, what I went through was the most painful thing in my life, and I still kind of am going through it. I still get the urge to injure myself sometimes, but not nearly as strongly as before. And I know that when you’re in the middle of it, it seems like no one cares what you have to say, but that’s not true. In the past, I was successful in convincing myself that “I was worth nothing. I could do nothing. I. Am. Nothing.” But that doesn’t mean we can’t do good for each other. We are social beings, meant to lift each other up. And I want to do that now. If anyone reads this and is struggling with their feelings and feels like they have no one to trust, it’s ok. I’ve felt that way too. I’m often online, so if you ever want to talk, don’t hesitate to contact me. I’d love nothing more than to help you out. 🙂