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For so long I'd felt uneasy, as if the tiniest thing would make me explode into a thousand tears, at only the age of fourteen I felt compelled to lock myself away from the outside world. At the age of fourteen you'd be expected to be in moods for a few hours, not a few weeks.
A few month before my fifteenth birthday I was diagnosed. I felt like a failure. Even after being put on medication I still didn't believe that I could have an illness. Then I began sinking, my thoughts began pushing me down, I had no one but myself, my boyfriend at the time shared a big part of my health and took up a large amount of my problems , but I shut him out. I had to. he needed to get away from me. I wasn't going to last long, not relationship wise but mentally. I could feel myself weakening, suffering, each night I spent alone in bed I sunk further and further into illness. I needed something but I didn't know what, I dragged a blade accross my wrist and I liked it, it gave me a sense of security, a release, an ease. But it began becoming persistent I couldn't go 5 hours without harming myself, hospital trips and having my own set of cleaning products and bandages at home didn't bother me in the slightest. It was when I stayed at my grandparents and all of the cutlery and prescripted medication was locked away that I realised what I was doing to myself and others around me. I'd noticed I was blinded by my thoughts, I glanced down at my thighs and saw the damage, I have scars that will never fade and that will always be stared at by strangers.
I frowned upon myself, I was disgusted I had let myself go into the storm my mind had made, thinking this would have changed my life around and forced me to stop letting the pain I was in get to me it didn't. Unfortunately for those who were around to witness it I got worse, after slicing my wrist open and lying in a pool of my own blood only a week after my last suicide attempt of an overdose, I was put on high security with a higher, different dose of anti depressants and the nhs at my home 4 times a week not including group dbt therapy. There was talk of staying in a psychiatric unit not far from where I live, but I decided to make myself go numb. Instead of dealing with my thoughts the way I had been i didn't think at all , I barely spoke , I didn't eat and i never left the house. although all of that didn't help my mental state it still made the situation better as staying in a psychiatric ward alone scared me so much. I stayed like that for months, until my medication got upped and I began to feel a change in myself. Having severe major depression sucks as well as being on a strong dose of antidepressants and having mental health services at your door 4 times a week, but my eyes were opened and i began using my skills I'd leaned from CAMHS to be mindful , not long before my 16th birthday my cousin was involved in an accident which lead to her death, she drowned, a freak wave no one could have done anything about, ever since I've been told that it should have opened my eyes to how amazing life was and too appreciate it , I thought maybe if you told this to an alcoholic or some kid that's constantly getting arrested that would have opened their eyes but for some reason it didn't for me , I'm not sure if it's because Im off my face on my happy tablets or I was just ungrateful but it made me want to end everything sooner, In my head I was told that because everyone was already devastated I may as well do it then so no one had to suffer at a different time, then I had a talk with my grandparents, my psychiatrist, my care coordinator and my mam and for someone like me that was slightly abnormal, I then began feeling guilty and was tempted to go back down the dark road id just took a left turn off, I'd began planning, and looking for sharp things, but then I remembered I'm too stubborn to stoop to the level I once had been, I sat myself down and had a talk with myself and said "fuck that". I'd realized that as my cousin had died I didn't realize I was close to dying too, drowning, in my own thoughts, they'd come over me like a tidal wave, I was helpless, I couldn't swim. how the hell can you swim when the water your drowning in is your own mind?! I grabbed pens, the brightest colors, some paper, made myself a coffee and made a plan, this year I'm coming off my anti-depressants, this year I'm getting discharged from CAMHS, and this year I'm staying away from the water in my head, I'm putting barriers up, my waves might push me over, might get my clothes wet but I'm not letting them take my life, I'm currently in remission, and now I've realized not only do i need to do this for myself I need to do this for her.