Sometimes, you just get sick of life. And everything that comes with it. I remember the first time I s.i.’ed. I was in the eighth grade, and two of my friends-one who I was really close to-were going through a bad breakup. I was caught in the middle of it, with no way out. They were saying they would do bad things to themselves, and I couldn’t take it. Because noone bothered to ask me how I felt. I could feel their pain, and I felt like a terrible person for being ok while they weren’t. So I did it. And it made things feel better for me, for a bit. I felt like maybe making the emotional pain physical would make it easier to deal with. But a piece of me told me it was wrong. Another time, my friend told me that my ex was going to ask me back out. Instead, he started kissing a girl that I hated. In the seat behind me on the bus. I felt so alone, just sitting there. Noone talking to me, nobody noticing. So I went home that night and did it again. At our school awards cermony, my friend noticed. She yelled at me, and told me I needed to stop. I wanted to. But at this point, it was just instinct. Whenever I was hurting, I would just automatically do it. And then sit there and think “what the heck did I just do?” It was terrible. I’m getting better though. But it’s hard to stop. I don’t want to tell my mom, because she is extremely overprotective and would flip. But she found out that I’ve been having problems with depression lately. She said that it was just something “all teens go through”. If only she knew. She won’t let me see someone for help, either, and I need that. Someone to talk to, who I won’t feel guilty about burdening with my problems. I really am trying, though. There have been so many times since my last time (about 4 months) that I have wanted to, but have been able to tell myself “no.” To ask myself if I really want to do that. My problem is, I’m scared that one of these days, I won’t be able to stop myself and it will happen again. I’ve been getting closer and closer to my breaking point. And I don’t want to get there.
My parents found out and they flipped out. At first, they pretended to almost rake me to a halfway house, but then I went into a trance and almost relapsed, my sister saw and told my parents. Soon resulting in taking my door off, taking my iPod, computer, tv, and most of all, my friends. I was devastated. They knew that all I wanted was for someone to talk to, someone to help me, and they got me a counselor. That was four years ago.
I think your mom would freak out less if you just came out and told her, instead of her finding out by accident. Yeah she may freak out a lit, but I highly believe she’d freak out a millions times more if she were to ever walk in on you during one of your episodes. If you truly want to stop amd you feel that you need help getting there, I’m positive that if you came out to your mom and asked for help, she’d get you help.
Hang in there. 🙂