Part 2 of the diary from my sophomore year. I thought things were bad then; that things couldn’t get any worse. Yet what I went through after that in the years to come was far worse than I could have ever imagined, and much more serious, as my previous posts describe. This is as it was originally written. Minor grammar edits, a couple edits for clarification, and a few names are changed. Other than that it’s as raw as it was when it was written, hence it’s not the most eloquent writing or written as well as my other posts. I was just 15. If it seems like it expresses the same thing over and over, it’s because that’s how it was day in and day out. Feel free to leave comments if you have questions. Just please be respectful. This is the first time I’ve shared this.
Disclaimer: Please keep in mind that this is told from the perspective of someone who was very mentally ill. My parents were not bad parents. My sister was not bad. Just part of having a sister – it just affected me much more because I was already ill, and dealing with so much. They’re not perfect. No one is. And they didn’t understand what was going on. As is the case with a lot of people. That’s why education and relating experiences is so important.
3-10-11
I haven’t got a chance to write in a while. I went to my appointment Tuesday, March 1st, but I didn’t dare tell her what I’d tried to do several times. I got my riding lesson that week. I rode Skipper. He wouldn’t trot, so I used a crop, but when I asked him to canter, he broke the moment I asked. Then he started breaking into a canter when I didn’t ask. I half-seated, to ride the fast canter, and he almost broke into a gallop. It was fun. We were almost flying, the wind was in my face, and I felt balanced over his withers, but my instructor told me to slow him down, and sit, so I pulled him back to a regular canter and sat down. I like Skipper now.
On Tuesday (before that lesson) after my doctor’s appointment, my friend came up to me in Biology and said “Quiero morir.” I immediately asked “por qué?” I asked him if he was going to do it, and he said that on a scale of 1-10, he was an 8, maybe a 9. I asked him what he was going to do, and he explained to me how he was feeling, that he was ready to try anything to make it work. He was going to take a knife and stab himself in the stomach. Before he told me all this he asked me if I was going to tell anyone, and I said no, knowing that I was lying, but I had to protect him. I had to get him to tell me so I could do what I could to stop him. He explained to me why he wanted to do it. He said that kids were always picking on him, and he was depressed and just couldn’t take anymore. I understood exactly how he felt. We’re so much alike that its scary sometimes.
After class, I went to ask Ms. Olsen what she thought I should do, I was shaking and breathing hard, and I looked distracted and worried. She immediately noticed something was wrong and asked me. I told her what happened and explained that I was afraid he would do it and that he would find out I told someone after I said I wouldn’t. She told me I needed to go to guidance right then. The adrenaline pushed me into a run. When I got there, I was so out of breath I could hardly talk. I told Ms. Sowell what happened, and she called his parents, then I went to orchestra rehearsal.
All that night and evening I was worried. Worried that his parents wouldn’t be able to stop him, worried that I didn’t do all I could. I felt like it would be my fault if he did it. I was scared to death that I would go to school tomorrow and he wouldn’t be there. But he was and later that day he changed his mind. And for the first time ever neither of us were suicidal. It was strange.
Despite all this, I was happy, even though the day before I had attempted suicide. I wanted to live more than I ever remember wanting to live. It had never been that strong. I had hope for the future. I felt like I could accomplish something, and I was ready to get on top of everything and pull my grades up. At times I felt like jumping up and down and screaming, there are no words to describe how elated I felt. I felt high. It was a great feeling, and I wish it could continue forever.
It lasted from Tuesday, until today. During that time, I didn’t think it was possible for me to go back to the way I was before, but a warning sign flashed and I became cautious, then worried that I might be bipolar, then afraid that I’ll end up back where I was before, that all these wonderful feelings, were temporary, like someone on drugs. By yesterday, I could feel myself starting to slide back ever so slightly, and today, I fell apart. Everything came back. I feel depressed, I’m worried I might be suicidal tomorrow. All the negative stuff that was going through my head before is back. It makes me want to take drugs to get that high feeling back. I can’t stand flipping back and forth all the time for absolutely no reason whatsoever. What if I’m really bipolar? Will my parents believe me about this when they find out? Will I be able to get a diagnosis for whatever is going on? And will I get medicine for it? I just want to be normal, and then there’s the trichotillomania…. Is living really worth all this? I feel like I have so many problems, that nobody needs me, because I’m crazy. I’ll talk to my Therapist about it Tuesday.
I had a great lesson on Skipper. He was wired. He trotted fairly willingly. Once I asked him for the canter, he didn’t want to stop. Every time I asked for the trot he broke into canter. I had to hold him in the trot. At one point I decided to let him canter. I half-seated, my body rocking with his strides. Then I felt him flatten out, and his burst of speed blew me back in the saddle, and I smiled at his power as I pulled him back into a trot. At the end of the lesson, my legs would barely hold me in a half-seat. They felt like I had raced in the derby, and Skipper still wanted to go! His energy and fire seemed unlimited. After the lesson. Cathy told me “no more hand-galloping -you gave me more grey hairs out there.”. It was so much fun! I love riding Skipper. He is so spirited and powerful, and fast.
Fri. 3/4/11
I was depressed when I got to school, and I stayed that way for a few hours. I felt “dead “and the thought of suicide entered my mind. I probably would try it, but I’m afraid of another attempt-a 20th. During free Enterprise, I suddenly became very angry at myself. The sudden urge to self-injure came up on me like a wave, and I acted-on impulse. I quickly sharpened my pencil and stabbed my hand next to my thumb twice. It hurt, but I only punctured the first couple layers, so a few minutes later, it came back. I took my watch off, and stabbed the back of my arm three times. harder than before. I punctured it hard enough to draw blood. It hurt worse, and the feeling that I had slipped away and retreated, for the time being.
Mon..3/14/11
The weekend wasn’t that good. Saturday, I was so depressed, that I slept for over 10 hours. Then I took a nap in the afternoon, but I was still being tortured by my emotions. I was so depressed that I went in the bathroom and cried. I cried so hard my whole body was shaking. I couldn’t really stop-I hurt so much. My mom knocked and opened the door and asked what I was doing. I came out, and said “nothing”. She said “yes you were, you were crying. Why were you crying?” At this point I flipped out. I yelled at her that I wasn’t doing anything and she said that she didn’t believe it. Again she asked why I was crying and I yelled that I didn’t know, and stormed out of the room. Then my dad came out and yelled at me to come back. I stormed back and punched the wall. I was so frustrated and angry that I was hitting myself in the face and flinging my body against the wall while I was screaming and crying. My dad mimicked me, making me angrier. He spanked me with a belt, then my mom took her hand and spanked me about as hard as she could about 10 times is a row in the same spot, then a while later. she did it again. She grabbed my arms, and I pulled back, yelling and kicking. I backed up against the wall, and banged my head on it repeatedly. My dad shook his head saying that I was acting like a cornered animal. My mom yelled in my face, that I wasn’t getting a riding lesson this week. (but I still might, I’m not sure) making me hurt more. Things finally calmed down enough to eat dinner. I think I was having a “mixed episode” where I was sort of going back and forth between the two, (assuming I am bipolar) and felt symptoms of both phases.
Sunday, I was still depressed at the first part of the day, but toward the afternoon, I switched. I got on the swing, and my sister and I were flinging shoes. I was laughing so hard I could hardly talk.I felt “high” again. Everything seemed funny. I had so much energy. Thoughts were speeding around in my head. All the songs I was singing were sped up, and I couldn’t seem to stay still. I was running all over the place, and felt like I could go on forever. I wasn’t tired, I felt happy, and like I could conquer anything or accomplish anything I wanted. It was amazing!
Today, I think I still have a “mixed episode”. I wasn’t either way at the beginning of today, but hen I felt “high”. Now I feel depressed. This flipping back and forth is killing me. I cant take anymore. I’m about ready to kill myself over it. I don’t know if I can make it till tomorrow when I have my appointment.
I stabbed my arm with a pencil a couple times. One is pretty deep for a puncture. It slipped and made a scratch that started bleeding. But I don’t care. I hate myself, and I’m considering suicide in just half an hour. It’s the easy way out. I found a pencil sharpener yesterday, and I have a screwdriver. I’m seriously considering cutting my finger. I don’t care how deep I go, or how much it hurts, I just feel mad at myself, and I’m really tired of feeling really high then being really depressed the next day. The only thing worse is being in between – where I am now. There’s probably a 50-50 shot that I’ll attempt suicide today – unless I flip back…
I did flip back. I ran the track at lunch, I started off at a quick jog and picked up a “canter” around the first turn. At the end of the second stretch, I slowed to a walk for a few seconds, but I couldn’t stay at a walk to I finished at an “extended trot”. I felt high again. I wanted to run more. I seemed to have unlimited energy, and thoughts were racing around in my head. Again, I felt like I could accomplish anything, and my self-esteem was higher. I still feel sort of “high”. I wish I could stay like this forever. I love feeling like this, only I know that it’s going to crash at some point. What I’ve also noticed, is when I’m depressed, I eat more, mostly junk and sugar things. When I feel “high”, I tend to eat less and need less sleep. I’m not sure what this means.
Tues 3/15/11
I woke up depressed. The “high” feeling is completely gone. I want to die. If it wasn’t for my appointment today, I’d probably attempt suicide. I hurt, and I want to escape. I either feel really “high” and happy, and have a lot of energy, or I feel really depressed and suicidal. There’s no in between. It’s always one or the other. I hate it. Sometime I’m sure I’m bipolar, and sometimes im not. I just want stability. I’m tired of my mood changing drastically all of a sudden for no reason. It hurts. I want to escape. If suicide is the only way to escape this, I’m going to go for it. I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of trying to care, trying to get better, and actually seeming to make progress, only to have the little ray of hope smashed flatter than ever thought possible, only to pick up and try again, and getting the same result. I’m tired of breaking down for no reason, tired of being depressed, tired of being plagued by thoughts of suicide; just let me die. People would be better off without me anyway. I don’t see any point in living or putting up with this any longer. If I don’t have a good session today, I’m probably going to kill myself by Friday.
I want to be dead. I don’t want the pain anyone. I just want to be normal like everyone else, but I never will be. There’s no point in trying. The way I feel is totally impossible to describe. I just know that I want to die. I want someone to shoot me. I’m ready to do almost anything to accomplish this. I feel like breaking down, but I don’t know why. I hate myself, and I feel like I’m not good at anything.
I cant hold on much longer. I keep asking myself “Why me? How could I be bipolar? What if they put me in the hospital? What if they don’t believe me? No one related to me is bipolar, so how could I be? What will I do if I am? What will I do if I’m not?
There’s so much uncertainty in this. I flipped out at my mom for no reason yesterday. If I do get diagnosed with bipolar at some point, what if my friends don’t want to be near me because of the general idea that people with bipolar are crazy, and they flip out at anyone at anytime, and that’s me. I don’t want to have this. It hurts. It’s painful, but people will think I want to have it. I had no idea I could be bipolar until one of my friends told me she thought I was (her mom is bipolar). When I told one of my other friends that I thought I was, she asked me if I just figured that out. I had no idea that anything was wrong until one of my friends mentioned it to me, but it makes sense.
I went to my appointment today. She gave me an OCD test. I was surprised at how many things I did or thought about extensively. She hasn’t officially diagnosed me, but I think she’s going to. She said that she’d talk with me and my mom together and see. She also gave me a paper to fill out on how much I think about things. My mom doesn’t think I have it. She says that if you go by the criteria, everyone has it. She said I probably wasn’t bipolar but I didn’t get to talk to her a whole lot about that.
Wed. 3/16/11
I want to die. My riding instructor called and turned me over to Brandy because she wasn’t going to be there. The way I feel today, I’m going to commit suicide tomorrow unless I flip back. I don’t know what to do.
I want to cut myself. I have a blade. I’m afraid that if I cut my parents will find out about it, but I need to cut myself. I don’t care anymore. I don’t care how much it hurts or how deep I go. The pain inside me is immense. What if I get caught taking the blade out of the pencil sharpener? But I didn’t. I want to cut so bad – I have to.
I did. I cut my finger, it’s not really deep, but its short. It will pass for a paper cut – easily, but I still want to cut. I feel like slitting my wrists harder than I’ve ever cut before.
When I got to geometry, I gave in. I cut the back of my wrist with the blade – hard. I’ve never cut that deep before. It was bleeding and bleeding. It wasn’t long – not even a half an inch, but it was so deep that it ached inside. I cant believe it, but I still want to cut. I don’t know what I’ll have to do to be satisfied.
I took the blade back out and made the small cut (in length) deeper. The blade fit in the groove easily and the tip of it disappeared inside. I wiped the blood off the blade, and wrapped a Kleenex around it, because it was bleeding quite a bit. I’m terrified my parents will find out. I can see the opening, and where it goes down, and it opens and closes slightly.
Ms. Olsen saw it at the end of the day, and said that it was pretty deep. She wanted me to stop – she said it was dangerous, that it could get infected, and I didn’t need to be doing that in class.
My parents didn’t find out today. I had a good lesson on Skipper with Brandy. Skipper could not have been better. He did everything I asked him to. I squeezed his sides with my legs, and he broke into a trot. Then I asked him to walk, he did. When I moved my outside leg back, he picked up a canter from a walk with only about 1 or 2 strides of trot in between. His canter was slow and even. He didn’t try to break into a faster gait and he stayed on the rail most of the time. I could not have asked for him to be better behaved. Brandy said that I was cantering correctly, that I wasn’t bouncing or pumping my upper body like I know I had been. It was a great lesson. I only wish Cathy could have been here to see it.
I didn’t cut in geometry. I took a group test and an individual test. I may have passed the individual, but I don’t know for sure. During lunch, when I went to use the bathroom, I took out the blade I had and cut my arm. It was deep. It was open, and there was a good size opening at the top where the skin had pulled back. I could see the layer of fat below the skin. It was even deeper than the last time. I doubled a folded tissue and held it in place with my watch because it was bleeding a lot. Then I went to eat lunch.
It pretty much freaked me out, and scared me. I was definitely shaken. I had no idea that I had it in me to go that deep. I’m scared out of my mind. What if I can’t put the watch over it because it’s too deep? What if my parents find out and/or see it? What if they get infected, or they don’t heal right, or they scar bad? What if I keep going deeper and deeper until I cut so bad that I’ll need stitches? On the other hand, I don’t really care that much. It took that cut 35min to stop bleeding. I can see a semi-clear fluid (not blood) inside the opening, but I don’t know exactly what it is. A part of me wants to cut deeper but another part of me is afraid. I’ve never been afraid of cutting before. But I am now, and I don’t know why. I’m worried that I’ll never be able to go back to the way I was cutting before – very shallow. I’ll probably just keep going deeper and deeper. I don’t know what to do. Suicide?
Wed. 3/23/11
I haven’t got a chance to write in awhile, but I’ll write what I can remember. Friday, I cut again, that’s all I know. Friday night my mom asked if there was anything under my watch. I pulled down the watch and said “Ta-da!” And she said that it better be. The cuts were on the outside, and I showed her the inside, where I’ve always cut before. It worked, and I was off the hook.
I wanted to cut all weekend, but I couldn’t. I put a bandaid over the cuts, and covered that with my watch, because it hurt really bad to move my wrist with the watch on it. I guess the watch was sticking to the open wounds on my wrist.
On Monday, I cut again. I cut in second hour and made it deeper in third hour. This is probably the deepest one so far. My friends in Biology saw it and told me it was really deep and they wanted me to stop, but I cut again in biology. This one wasn’t that deep, but it was pretty long and it bled a lot.
On Tuesday, Yesterday, we had to take the first part of the GEE. I brought the blade in my pocket along with a couple tissues. I fought it and fought it, but when my concentration lowered to almost zero, I gave in and cut during the test. No one saw me. I felt better, and I could concentrate again.
I went to my doctor’s appointment after testing. She talked with me and my mom. (I told her that I was cutting) She diagnosed me with OCD. My parents don’t think that I have it though.
Today, I wanted to cut in second hour. My friend wouldn’t let me. I felt like I was about to go crazy. I made it through that class and went to art. I still wanted to cut. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep going. When it was time for lunch, I gave way and went in the bathroom and cut. It wasn’t really deep but it was still deeper than how I used to cut. I stopped the bleeding and went to lunch.
After lunch I went to Spanish. Again I wanted to cut. I sat there and fought it again. Pain was shooting through my insides – Pain I knew cutting would suppress. I told Ms. Olsen “quiero cortarme”. She told me not to do it and I said I was trying to fight it. I didn’t give in that time (during that particular class). When I got to biology though, I gave in and cut. I couldn’t take anymore pain. I was tired of fighting. This cut was a little deeper than the last one, and it hurt pretty bad. The pain (emotional) that I was feeling slipped away and a calm set over me.
It wasn’t that long afterward, the pain came back, fiercer than ever, and I realized that I could not keep going the way I was, but I made it through the rest of the class without cutting again.
After school, I told Ms. Olsen that I gave in again and didn’t think I could keep going much longer. She told me that if I felt like that I needed to go to guidance. I told her I wasn’t going to do anything today or tomorrow, but she still said that I needed to go to guidance. I was afraid that they would find out about my cutting and tell my parents, but she told me that I either went down there right then or she would take me down there herself. I covered up my cuts with a bandaid and my watch, and reluctantly went down there.
I talked to the intern. I told her how I felt, and we talked awhile then she took me to art club. I went back and told Ms. Olsen that I went to guidance and talked to the intern.
My parents didn’t find out. I went and played in a concert for orchestra, but we did bad. Mr. Frazier fussed us, and I was ready to commit suicide over it, among the other things that has slowly been driving me back to where I was at the beginning of the year. I’m so afraid. I’m living in fear of everything.
Thurs. 3/24/11
I can’t believe it! I didn’t cut myself today. I don’t know how I pulled through. I must admit it was hard. Cathy left a message saying that Brandy could take my lesson again. Cathy was sick. I really wished I had rode with Cathy, but at least I got to ride.
My parents didn’t find out about my cuts, so I got to go to the lesson. Brandy put me on Omega, a horse I’ve never ridden before, and the tallest horse in the barn, almost 18h high.
He kept wanting to stop near other horses. His trot felt horrible. It was a huge, bouncy stride, and it felt like a horse that was trotting over poles. I had to post twice as high as normal, and I felt like I was flopping around.
The fear is back. What if I cut against my will on impulse? I think it would be easier to cut than to deal wit this. Maybe I should give in and do a small one so I can stop fighting for awhile. No, I can’t, I have to fight, I have to keep going. I can’t fight anymore, though. My body is literally exhausted, but somehow, I have to find the strength to push on…
His canter was amazing though. He felt like a rocking horse. It was a lot of back and forth motion, but it had no bounce at all. Everything seemed to click together suddenly, and how I was cantering felt right. I could tell that I wasn’t pumping my upper body, and I wasn’t bouncing at all. It was amazing! Another good lesson! I wish Cathy had been there to see it.
After the lesson, I went to the art show. My painting was displayed in the front of the building. My dad said it was the best there.
Fri. 3/25/11
I want to die. Everything inside me hurts. I can’t take the pain anymore. In second hour, I cut my arm pretty bad. It bled a lot and I could see an opening, and the layer of fat under the skin. Cutting is all I can do to suppress the emotional pain for awhile.
Being dead would be so much easier than being alive. I don’t really have any friends, and the people around me would be better off if I wasn’t here. I’m just an added burden to everyone’s life. Nobody needs me. If I had gun I would pull the trigger. I don’t care anymore, and I don’t want to live anymore either. Somehow, some way, I have to find a way to die and put me out of this misery. I cannot keep going any longer, I can’t fight anymore. I can feel my old life and the vigor I used to have slowly slipping out away from me, leaving me with nothing to hold on to, no hope of the future; noting but darkness and pain, and a never-ending cycle of endless problems stretched out before me in an endless ribbon. Why not just end it now? Before things get any worse than they already are?
Tues. 3/29/11
My weekend was pretty bad. All I wanted to do was take a knife and stab myself. I wanted to die. Monday, I probably would have made an attempt, except that I had and orchestra field trip, and lost the chance to go through with it. I didn’t have a chance to cut either.
I want to die today, everything inside me hurts. I’m tired of trying to fight. I feel like things will never get better. I don’t have any hope anymore People would be better off if I wasn’t here. Why not just go though with it? I can’t today though, because I have two appointments. The desire to die is so strong its incredible. I’m afraid to tell my counselor about this though.
I’m in geometry writing this. I was hurting so bad that I cut myself again. It’s pretty deep, but I just don’t care anymore. I want to die. I wish someone would shoot me. I hurt inside, still, and feel that suicide is the only way out of this. At least it would be better than being tortured every day.
I’m on the verge of cutting again. I just don’t know what else to do. Nothing works as well as I’d like it to. I have to get out of here. I have to die. It would be better for everyone involved – because they wouldn’t have to worry about me, and I will no longer be a burden to anyone else. No one will have to fuss me again. Suicide is the only solution. There’s no other way out of this.
I cut myself again. Its just as deep as the last one but it’s bleeding more. I hate myself. I’m hurting inside. I don’t care anymore. I just want to be dead. I’m giving up the fight. I’m through. I’ll probably attempt suicide Friday.
I cut myself yet again. It’s bleeding even more, but I don’t think its any deeper. My wrist is a mess. It’s just one big mass of cuts, some fresh, some half healed. I don’t care though, I can cover it up with my watch. I can’t cut again because my mom is picking me up soon to go to Dr. Blackburn. Even so, I still want to die; and cut some more. I have NEVER had a cut bleed so much. The blood has soaked through 4 layers of 3-ply tissue and its still bleeding. I don’t even care.
I told my doctor about my cuts. She told me what my mom and her had talked about last time. She said that because my mom doesn’t know, she thinks using the riding lessons as punishment and reward is working. Because of this, she said that my mom doesn’t think I have OCD, and therefore I won’t be put on any medicine – she’s totally against that. I don’t know how much longer I can keep cutting without my parents finding out. Probably not much. I don’t even know how I can stop – not to mention how I can get to where I want to stop. Cutting has pretty much taken control over me, just like drug. I can’t go to school without a blade, and yet, I’m not ready to give it up. Today shows that my cutting has gotten totally out of control.
I am no longer the one in control. This habit, or addiction, has control over ME. Now, when I’m ready to stop, I have to start back at square one – If I ever care enough to stop. What if I’m cutting the rest of my life? – For as long as that is.
Wed 3/30/11
I only cut once today – in Biology. It wasn’t very deep, but I almost got caught by the kid who sits in front of me. I had just cut, and she asked me what I was doing, and tells me to put my hands on the table to let her see. I still had the blade in my hand. I let her know that she didn’t catch me She did end up seeing it when it was still bleeding, but the subject was dropped. I have a riding lesson tomorrow- as long as my parents don’t find out.
Thurs. 3/31/11
I want to die. I have to get out of here. I can’t take anymore. A suicide attempt tomorrow is almost certain. I forgot to do my geometry project – there goes my grade again, and I have a biology test today that I know I’m going to fail, and a geometry test tomorrow that I’m also going to fail.
I’m in geometry right now. I cut myself again. I think it’s the deepest one so far. It bled more than any of the others. I don’t even care anymore. I’m probably going to keep cutting until my parents find out.
I feel like I have to die. I’m making an attempt on tomorrow. I’m through. I can’t take anymore.
Ms. Olsen made me go to guidance at the end of the school day. I didn’t tell them I was cutting though, so I got my riding lesson.
Cathy was there today. She put me on Roscoe. I walked, trotted, and cantered on both leads. He was good other than he would break out of a canter into a trot and drift to the inside. His canter is really smooth. At one point, Cathy asked me to half-seat at the canter. I did. It was amazing He has such a big canter that it feels really fast. It felt like we were flying around the arena. The wind was in my face and my shirt was full of air, like when people ride motorcycles. It was amazing. When I sat the canter, I wasn’t bouncing, I wasn’t pumping my body or anything. Cathy said I was looking more and more professional. It was so much fun.
After the lesson though, everything came back. I felt like breaking down. Cathy hugged me and I lost control and started crying. I was hurting inside and couldn’t take anymore.
When I took my shower, I broke down again. I cried so hard that my chest hurt, but in awhile, I felt better. I still felt like I was going to try to take my life. People wold be better off if I wasn’t here.
Fri. 4/1/11
I think I’m going to kill myself today. My parents found out that I cut. Ms. Olsen emailed guidance and told them. They called me down during 1st hour. She had already called my parents. When I got there (for the 50th time) she said that my mom wanted to talk to me. She seemed upset, that I lied to her about how I was doing, and that I hid my cuts from her. I know I’m not going to have a riding lesson next week. It’s going to be hard to face my parents – they’re not going to let me go anywhere or do anything without them being in the room – including using the bathroom.
So I have to kill myself, and it has to work. I do not want a 20th attempt. I cant take anymore, and I’m not going to. Ive fought for years. When I thought I didn’t have anything left, when I rallied, I found more strength, and more endurance, but now I don’t have anything left to give. I’m done. I cant keep going. I don’t see any point. It’ll be better once I’m gone – better for everyone. I’m going to go through with it during lunch, once and for all.
I tried to take my life, but I failed yet again. I’m so stupid. I don’t even know how to get out of a situation that I can’t handle. The same thing happened when I made the attempt. The same symptoms, the same reason why it didn’t work. I wish it had. I shouldn’t be here anymore. I can’t keep going, but I’m being forced to. The pain inside me right now is vicious, I cant escape it, I cant suppress it. I can’t hide it, it’s there, the pain is there. I need to cut, but I can’t. I cant afford to make my arm look worse than it already is. There’s nothing I can do. Maybe I should just take the blade and cut both my arms all the way up. I’m going to get in trouble anyway. With my parents finding out – this could get better or it could get worse – much worse. If I’ve already lost the lesson for next week, with no hope of getting it back, it’ll probably get worse. If they say that they’re going to homeschool me, it’ll get worse. However, if there’s hope that that I’ll be able to ride again, and that I’ll stay in school, I might put more effort out to stop cutting, with every ounce of strength left in me. I’ll try to beat this, but I know the situation that I’m in now is terrible. My parents will freak when they see my arm. What’s worse, I lied about what I cut with, to protect the best blade I’ve ever had, (and me) and I don’t know if she’ll believe what I said when she sees the cuts.
I’m terrified of losing my watch. Then I won’t have anything to cover it up with, and everyone will know that I’m a cutter. I hate myself for that.
Mon. 4/4/11
The weekend was terrible. I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere, or do anything without one of my parents there. They took my watch from me. My dad told me to my face that he didn’t think I’m ever going to be normal, and he’s probably right – I’m crazy. I’ll probably never be able to totally stop cutting, or anything else.
Iv’e decided to try to stop – to fight with everything I have left, but I’m running on empty. There’s always the chance that I wont succeed. I’m going to give it my best shot, though, and put all my ideas together.
I want to cut right now but I can’t. Right now, I’m fighting. It’s really hard, and its getting harder every minute. I’m hurting inside. I’m at the point where I’ve always cut before, and I realize that I’m basically addicted to self-harm, and its so hard to fight it right now, that I’m starting to wonder if its possible for me to stop.
I hate myself of getting myself into this, where all I want to do is cut. For me, its sort of like self-punishment, and a way to take the pain out from inside of me and put it somewhere else, so I’d feel calmer. I’m scared to death that I’m going to dig in my backpack and find something sharp enough to cut. I want to cut, but at the same time, I don’t want to give in, but I’m afraid I will without meaning to. I’m afraid. That’s all I can think about right now.
I’m thinking, “I don’t want to. I don’t want to, but what if I do? No, I can’t. I have to fight.”
I’m scared to death that I’ll give in to this. I don’t know what to do. What if I just reach into my bag and pull out something sharp? I could take everything sharp out, but I’ll still have pencils and paper, and my nails, and who knows what other booby-traps are in there. I’m so afraid. I can’t stress that enough, and I cant write it to make it look how I feel. There’s no words to describe the pain inside me. 15 minutes before I can explode on the track. I cant barely contain myself. I need pain. I need it. I need to cut. I need something – anything!
Somehow I managed to hang on until lunch. I started walking toward the track. My breathing was already heavy, but I was only half there, I felt like a part of me was somewhere else. I felt like someone had injected me with some type of drug. Maybe heroin, so that I wasn’t myself. I stepped onto the track and broke into a run. I had no idea I could run that fast. I slowed at the turn to a walk, and ran back down half of the second stretch, after which I jumped the hurdle that was there before walking off the track. My leg hurt from running, and my legs felt like they could not hold me up, but the urge to cut was gone, and the extreme fear that i had was diminished. I kept telling myself that I was ok now, that it was all over, and it was – for now.
I’m in biology, and I want to cut – again. My body is literally exhausted from fighting the last one, and I don’t know if I have the strength to fight this one too. I don’t think I can stop cutting, because right now, I have no control over it. It’s about as hard to stop this as it if for someone to get off drugs. I’d been cutting for two weeks straight, now I cant and I don’t know how to deal with the feelings that cutting was covering up. I hate myself for that, more than I can put into words.
My mom came to pick me up from school today and I got busted. She found everything in my locker – the pencil sharpener with the blade half out, the rope stiff (headbands, etc) tied together, and this journal. Fortunately I was able to keep her from reading it by saying that it was to show my doctor.
My parents asked what all that was doing in my locker (she also found….and bandaids) but I lied and said that I didn’t use them, and that I didn’t know when I had put them in there ( mostly true) and then that I didn’t use them or have any intentions of doing so.
My parents threatened to homeschool me, or go put me in a mental institution. My dad said “I put my mother in a facility and I can put you in one too.” They said they might send a letter to the school to take the GED early, and get an equivalency diploma, or show the principal what my mom took out of my locker so the school will put me out. I’m really on the edge now. They told me that I couldn’t do anything more “this stuff is going to stop right now”, but I still feel as if my only means of coping with everything has been taken away from me, with the best blade that I’ve ever had. I’m scared to death that I’m going to end up in a mental institution.
Tues. 4/5/11
I’m afraid, but it’s something totally different this time. For some reason, I’m scared to death that I’m going to be sad one day, walk by some pills or something and impulsively take a couple. I’m afraid that I’m going to start taking drugs, and get addicted. It hurts. I want to cut, and I’m afraid that I’m going to find something sharp and cut on impulse. The longer these fears are there, the more I want to cut, the worse the fears get. It feels like I’m trapped in a cycle of fears, and urges to cut, but I can’t cut. I’m trying to fight, but it’s hard, and I’m so afraid. What if I do it? What if I cut in impulse when I’m trying to resist it? What if I take drugs without wanting to? I’m not making this up; these fears are real. Could this be what the pain is that I feel a lot? Is that why cutting works?
Wed. 4/6/11
My parents took away three riding lessons and my next appointment is in two weeks, if not longer. I don’t know if I can do this. I can’t kill myself though because all I have are shoelaces. It might work but probably not. I’d have to somehow hang myself. Again, I’m afraid. I dreamed last night that I cut my entire stomach and part of my back and my parents found out.
I wish there was something that I could do, but there isn’t. I don’t think I’m strong enough to do all this. My mom told me that if I didn’t get my AR (accelerated reader, where you have to read books and take tests on them to get points, each book has a different point value and if you get answers wrong you get less points – a certain number of points was required for each student each 9 weeks, or half a semester and was a big portion of the grade) done early, that she was going to wring my neck and that I wouldn’t have to worry about it because she’d do it for me. I can’t take anymore. Yesterday after school I sat down in front of my locker and broke down because I was hurting so much. I can’t live like this. What if I do end up in a mental institution?
I don’t want to die, but I feel like I have to. I’ve already considered overdosing on children’s Advil since I can’t swallow pills, but I don’t know. It will probably just tear up my stomach, so I’ll have problems with my stomach for the rest of my life but it probably wouldn’t kill me. There’s got to be something I can do though, some way that I can die that won’t be extremely difficult or painful.
I guess at this point I don’t really know what I want. Maybe I just want some way to escape the pain that I feel right now, the urges to cut, and the feelings that cutting was masking, but now come forward with vigor. I don’t really have another method of coping that worked as well as cutting.
I have no idea how I’m going to make it through the next few weeks. My parents took three riding lessons away, and I’m not going to my therapist for at least two weeks. How can I be sure that there’s any hope on the horizon? Or that I’m ever going to get better?
I hate myself so much. I’m hurting inside. I guess I hate myself for cutting. They’re almost healed, but I can tell they they’re going to scar bad and be there for the rest of my life. I wish I hadn’t cut. I’m going to be reminded every time I look at my arm from now until the end of my life. I hate myself so much that I can’t even begin to describe it. I could deal with it while I was cutting, but now I can’t.
Thurs. 4/7/11
I should be riding today, but I‘m not. Not even for the next two weeks. I want to die – I have to. There has got to be some way that I can make it work. I have to escape the pain that’s inside me. I used cutting to escape it, but now I can’t. I’m almost ready to try to hang myself. I cannot keep going. I look into my future, and its full of darkness and pain. I don’t really have a life right now anyway. Why not just end it all?
I need to cut. If I could cut, everything would be better and I doubt I would be suicidal. I’m considering suicide because I want the pain and hurt inside me to stop. Suicide is the only way to escape the pain. Cutting would get rid of the pain, but I cant cut. I’m left with no option. I have to end my life if I want to escape the pain. It’s the only way.
I’m going to try to find a place where I could hang myself if or when it comes to that at lunch today. I’ll take my shoes off and stand on my back pack if I need to. (That will make it much more likely to work as all I’ll have to do is step down and that will be it)
Wed. 4/13/11
I haven’t had a chance to write in awhile. We’ve been testing (GEE) and I’ve been busy. It’s been hard, too, not riding. There’s a show this week but I doubt my parents are going to let me go.
I’m hurting inside right now. I want to cut, but I can’t. I haven’t cut for almost two weeks now, but I’ve thought about it every single day, and I’ve come extremely close to cutting a couple times.
Now I feel really bad; like suicide is the only option that I have left. I wold like nothing better than to go in the bathroom and hang myself. Even so, I recognize that I don’t truly want to die, I just want the pain to stop. As much as I want to end everything, I probably won’t. I don’t think I can, though. I know that as much as I hate my life, no matter how much I hurt inside, or how hopeless I feel, I have to keep going. I’m pretty much being forced to, but I have to keep going for Cathy, Ms. Olsen, my friends, God, and everyone else that seems to want me here, like Terry.
This though, is no guarantee that I wont go through with suicide tomorrow, after all, tomorrow presents a perfect opportunity. It’s very tempting, especially if I find out for sure that I cant go to the show. It would be so easy. Just stand on my backpack, rig it to the top of the bathroom door, and step down. That wold be it, and it wold probably be successful, but that decision will not be made today.
Thurs. 4/14/11
Today was the worst day Ive had in a long time. I felt so depressed, that when I got to 4th hr, I broke down. At lunch, I went behind. The gym, and broke down again. By this point, I had made the final decision to go in the bathroom after school and hang myself.
I was walking through the 500 building, totally out of it. All I was thinking about was now I could make it work. I walked past Ms. Olsen. She said “hola”. I glanced her way, but didn’t respond. I didn’t want her to stop me, or take me to guidance, but she immediately noticed my mood and asked what that face was for. Again, I didn’t answer. I could tell she was worried,
so she said, come on, Let’s go to guidance. I said no, I wasn’t going anywhere. She asked me if I was going to do anything, but I just said I didn’t know. She said “I don’t know isn’t good enough, I need a yes or no, we’re going to guidance.” I still said I didn’t know. Then she looked me in the eye and asked flat out “are you going to kill yourself?” I said, “not during the school day.” Then she said “Am I going to see you tomorrow?” But all I could say was “maybe.” I finally said no, that I wasn’t going to, and she asked if I was lying to her, but I said no even though I knew I was still probably going to go through with it.
I saw her again after school and we had a similar conversation. I walked with her about halfway to her car. Again, she asked me if I was going to do anything, and again I said I didn’t know. She asked if I was going to be okay, or if she needed to call my mom and have her come pick me up right then. I said that my mom couldn’t come right now, and Ms. Olsen said that she’d call someone else. I said “no, don’t do that to me.” She said “I won’t if you can promise me you’ll be okay.” But I hesitated. She decided to take me to tutoring so I wouldn’t be able to do it.
When I got to tutoring, I snapped inside, a wave of emotional pain came over me, and with all my heart I wanted to run to the bathroom and hang myself, but I couldn’t.
Fri. 4/1/11
Today, I still want to die. I got depressed, and then decided to kill myself, before lunch. I went into use the bathroom, and go through With my plan to hang myself, but there were two other people in there. It would be way too obvious as to what I was doing, so I didn’t. Then I realize that I had to bring my violin home; maybe I would miss the bus, so I could stay after school and go through with it. So that’s my plan now, if I miss my bus.
When I got to Spanish, I was still depressed, and I was the whole class. Ms. Olsen I asked what was wrong, and I just told her the same as yesterday. I told her that I might miss my bus. She told me not to. I asked “why can’t you just leave me alone and let me do what I’m going to do?” And she said “because as an adult I can’t do that.” In the end, she decided to try to leave me alone, and assumed that I’ll make the right decision, but that if I couldn’t do that, she’d have to call my parents.
I want to die so bad, and my plan is so tempting. I just might do it. I don’t want to live anymore, or hurt anymore. I’m done.
Mon. 4/18/11
I have to tell about the weekend first. I found out that Cathy quit, so Brandy’s my instructor. My parents decided to let me go to the horse show on Saturday. I signed up for the walk/trot/canter class. I rode Roscoe. There was this other girl that was sharing (the horse) with me, and she was warming him up in schooling him over some cross – rails. However, he was stopping in front of them, and not moving forwards actively. I asked Sarah if he was getting tired, but she said that she was a timid rider, and he was just being lazy. She told me that she hoped I could wake him up when I got on him to warm him up.
I got on him, and he was behind a bit, leaning forward, and plodding along. He was a mess. I asked him to trot, but he didn’t, so I kicked him. He trotted slowly, and I kept after him until I got him at his usual speed. I walked him, and trotted him, worked on transitions, and then asked him for a left lead canter. (His favorite lead) but my legs had to work overtime. He broke into a fast trot, but wouldn’t canter even though I was asking him correctly. I pulled him back to a walk and I asked again. I kicked him hard, repeatedly, and he finally broke into the canter, and I sat and rode, my outside like swinging back and tapping behind the girth at every other stride to keep him from breaking, but he eventually did anyway. I asked him to walk, and then I asked for the canter again, which he picked up much more readily. I repeated this one more time, on which he broke straight into a canter. I kept him going for two or three laps, and then pulled him up and gave him a pat, then I tried the other direction. I was amazed. Not only did he pick up the canter right away, but he picked up the correct lead (you usually have to try several times to get the right lead)Then I pulled him up to give him a walk break. At that point I knew he was better. He was on the bit, maintaining contact, and moving forward actively, ready to respond to the slightest movement of my legs. I exited the warm-up arena.
The other rider was riding before me. I helped her adjust her stirrups, and told her that I woke him up some, so he should be better. And he was. He was trotting forwards actively, and listening to her. Her and Sarah said he was, and thanked me.
When it was my turn, I did really well until the last part. He refused to pick up the right lead, so he placed fifth (last) I asked him three times, but there wasn’t anything else I could do.
That night though, I became really depressed. I wanted to die, but I couldn’t. I was in my room trying to go to sleep, and I saw dark shapes moving across the top of the door of my parents bedroom that resembled mice, but when I looked directly at them, they disappeared, only to continue when I look slightly away. I became frightened, and was already hurting so much, that I put my head under the covers and broke down.
Sunday night, even after the memorial, I was extremely depressed, and I wanted to kill myself the next day. Again, I broke down that night. Pain was inside me, and I didn’t know how to get rid of it – only through suicide.
Today, I woke up depressed. I got to school, and I went to the track, sat on the bleachers and broke down. When the bell rang, I want to Ms. Olsen, and she talked to me, and told me that it was okay to cry, that it meant that I was human. She knew I was currently suicidal, but she said that as long as I promised to talk to my therapist about it, she would let it slide this time.
I cried often on through my entire 1st hour. Mr. Frazier, Marcus, and Robin talked to me, but the way I felt I was going to commit suicide during lunch. I didn’t get any better. I was depressed, and I stated that way. I saw Ms. Olsen again, And she said that she was going to tell guidance during lunch, but I didn’t want her too. I told her no, don’t do it, but she said that she could tell me the same thing. I was so desperate that I told her that I wasn’t going to do it; that I had changed my mind. She said okay, but looked skeptical. She didn’t tell guidance though.
Tues. 4/19/11
I feel a little better today. Not that it will last long though. Part of me still wants to die, but that’s impossible today. I might do it tomorrow after school, or Thursday. I told Ms. Olsen That she could squeeze today out of me, and maybe tomorrow, but probably not Thursday. After all, Thursday would be the last chance I could have to do it before the spring break, so if she manages to squeeze Thursday out of me too, then another week and a half come with it. Another reason to go through with it Thursday. Ms. Olsen Told me that if she kept finding out that I was depressed and suicidal, that she’d have to call my parents. I don’t want her to, because then I’ll lose more lessons.
It hasn’t happened yet, but I know they will come a time where I won’t let Ms. Olsen Know that I’m suicidal, or give her the chance to stop me, or talk me out of it. It will come, and I won’t let anyone know – I’ll just suffer in silence, and then kill myself without Telling anyone. This could come as soon as Thursday.
I’m in English now, and I want to cut. I don’t know why though. There’s no trigger, just like there’s no trigger as to why I get depressed, or cry. I want to blade, but I don’t have one. I feel like slicing my arms, but I can’t. I hurt inside so much, but I don’t know how to make it better, or how to deal with it, other than cutting. I have a compass; maybe I can get away with a small scratch on my finger. Something, though, is telling me that I have to fight this with everything that I have. It’s so strange. If I want to cut, or I want to kill myself. Always one or the other, but never both at the same time. I just feel like I can’t press on without cutting.
Wed. 4/20/11
I started to change my mind about suicide last night, but my sister kept putting me down, so I didn’t change my mind. I’m sort of Being pulled in two directions. Part of me wants to live, and give things another chance, but the other part just wants to die, and is telling me that I have to get out of here. I’m considering doing it after school.
I didn’t get a chance though. Ms. Olsen found out, and made sure that I went to tutoring with her. She wouldn’t let me use the bathroom either, and she didn’t let me be by myself at all until my mom came to pick me up. There’s always tomorrow though.
Thurs. 4/21/11
Ms. Olsen Knows that I’m still considering suicide. I hope Mr. Harris (my geometry teacher) has tutoring after school today, but I don’t think he does. I don’t know what I’m going to do if he doesn’t. Probably miss my bus when I go to pick up my violin for the break.
Ms. Olsen Wants me to ride the bus, but I’m probably not going to. She’s threatening to call my parents. I cannot let her know that I’m actually going to go through with It today, because she’ll stop me, and make sure I don’t do it. She’s like a mother to me. I can’t let anyone know that I’m going to commit suicide today – no one. Today is my last chance to escape all the pain, even though a tiny piece of me still wants to live, but I have to die. I’m being tortured every day of my life. I wake up depressed, I go to sleep depressed, I cry without knowing why, I see dark shapes running on the tops of doors… Not to mention how my sister keeps putting me down about everything I’ve done. I can’t take anymore. I’m done. I’m going to do my best to make this work. The percentage that I’m going to do it is a 90%.
As strange as it may seem, I feel sort of calm right now, knowing that in a short while, everything will be over
Tues. 5/3/11
It’s been a while since I’ve written. I just got back from spring break. There’s so much that happened.
Ms. Olsen stopped me again, talked me out of it, put the pressure on me by saying, “you know the difference between right and wrong, and I trust that you’ll make the right decision.” She’s the only person who believes in me; that I’m not doing things just to get attention, she said that she knows I’m hurting inside. Finally, someone listens to me. At the end of the day, I decided to give things another chance.
Break started, and I became very depressed, but I didn’t have a way out – to escape. I couldn’t cut, I couldn’t hang myself. I felt like I had no energy. I didn’t feel like doing anything. I was so sad inside, without a reason, But I cried almost every day. Days would go by, and I would fight tears the whole time, breaking down off and crying so hard that my whole body shook As I tried to get rid of the pain inside me. Day after day I felt like this. I had no one to talk to, no way to cut, nothing I could do to make myself feel better. I was ready to try almost anything to get out. Monday, out of desperation, I called the hotline. I just talked to them, and told them how I felt, as tears poured out of my eyes. I told him that I was not going to kill myself – that I had no way to do it anyway.
The next day was almost a difference between night and day. I was happier, and I wasn’t fighting tears all day. I had a doctors appointment, to which all of my family went, so I didn’t get to talk to by myself. I learned the 1st. verse to #68 in Spanish and the 1st. verse and chorus to #60 in Italian. Then we went to the store, and I got a software program for learning Italian, which I started when I got home.
I was slightly better over the next day or so. I learned a good bit of Italian, and only two days. 55 words, the Conjugations of -are and -ere verbs, How to introduce myself, (say and ask where people are from and ask and tell names, and ask how people are doing). I also learned a few irregular conjugations, a lot for two days. I also Studied Spanish the next two chapters, and studied pottery books. I worked on my biology homework, and read my book.
Later, though, the depression came back full force. After my riding lesson Thursday, I broke down in the stable after I put skipper up. The other students were asking what was wrong, and even one of the stable hands, but I didn’t have the courage to tell them. In a way, I didn’t even know what was wrong.
Later on that week, I called the hotline again. Again I just told him how I felt, and again I told him I wasn’t going to kill myself. The last two days of the break, I finished my AR book, but by Sunday I was hurting again, so while I was getting dressed, I cut my thigh. It wasn’t bad; it didn’t bleed a lot, just a little, but it hurt pretty bad. It made the pain inside me go away.
Monday, I came to school, even though I was still depressed. I was seriously considering killing myself, but for some reason I change my mind. I still needed to escape pain, though. When we got two lunch shifts, I went in the bathroom and cut my thigh again. It was slightly worse than the other, but it still didn’t bleed a lot; I felt better though.
However, when I got home, everything returned. That night, Monday night, I called the hotline. It almost ended in disaster. I couldn’t find the phone. I look for all over – even in my mom’s closet. I finally ended up taking the one in my parents bedroom – a mistake. It t was the broken one so you couldn’t see the numbers because half of them didn’t show up. That’s what saved me.
My dad was sleeping in the living room. I got the phone, and went in the utility room to dial the number. Then I went back to bed, with the phone. A while later, my mom came out of her room and use the bathroom. The light came on. I whispered to them to hang on a second she looked at me in the light. I close my eyes, made my breathing deeper, and covered the phone with my hand. She peered over at me, then walked out of the room. I thought I was safe, so I said “okay” she asked me if my parents were up, and I told her I almost got caught. I asked her to hang on to get into my mom went in her room. She asked How long that will be, and I said just another minute. I shifted the phone so that I was laying on it on my back. Mom came back in and asked if I had the phone. I said no. She asked if I knew where it was, and again I said no. She pulled the cover off of me but didn’t see anything. My mom left the room temporarily, and I said I had to go. I hit The off button, making the phone beep and glow with an orange light. My mom walked back in, and in one move, I flung the phone against my chest and covered it with my hands and went back to “sleeping”. My mom left again. I got up and put the phone inside my open dresser drawer.
I realized, though, that I had to do something with the phone before A) my mom found it in her search B) she hit the pager in the morning C) she found it when she turned the light on in the morning.
I finally decided to take the phone to her and tell her it was on my dresser, that I had put it there and forgot that it was there; that I didn’t call anyone or talk to anyone. I finally got her to believe me so much, and I think I was off the hook. My legs were shaking a lot but my mom didn’t notice.
There is Help and Hope 