I am 18 years old and have been battling with depression since I was 11. As it ever so slowly developed due to the fact I was bullied in school, and I was alone. I made three friends and thought I’d finally stop being the victim of bullying. However, when I was 12, I got into a fight with two of them, and the third one was forced to choose between me or them, I was not the choice. My unknown depression was triggered further and I made my first cuts. I was actually afraid of it, I thought the pain would be too much to bear, so the cuts were very light. I didn’t do it again for a long while, not until I was 14. The bullying was getting worse, and I was struggling greatly to tell people about my feelings.
I started shutting out people and cut my arm a few times during that year, feeling like I had no other choice but to simply remain alone and depressed. I was struggling to connect with my family, often getting told by my dad that I was only supposed to be “a stain on the sheets”, as he put it. Sometimes, mum didn’t speak up.. She didn’t want any fights. However, passing the age of fifteen, again going to school and getting bullied, my locker was used as a trashcan by my bullies and my things were often ruined by them.
I turned to writing and drawing due to that I was always alone, the person I trusted the most was my mentor, which was the art teacher. I know she did her best to help me but it just didn’t work. I was still occasionally turning to grab the knife and cut my arm.
By the time I started the 9th grade, the year I was going to turn 16 (Bear in mind that I’m Swedish, our school years are 1 – 9, from 7 years to 16 years of age.), I told myself to not care about what they said or what they did, but less than a week in, I came home crying, and my mum finally put her foot down. A meeting was organized with my principal and mentor, along with me and my parents. The principal spoke as if it was my own fault I was chosen as the bullying victim, and quickly changed his mind when he noticed my mother’s anger. They fixed a transfer to me, and I was moved to another school after a few weeks. I wasn’t bullied there, the people were wonderful, but I just could not trust them. I didn’t dare to.
I was once again keeping to myself, my cutting became regular. I repeatedly sliced my arm and wrist for weeks, every day. One of my teachers noticed the injuries I was afflicting onto myself and assigned me to speak with the school therapist, but as I was going to quit that school by the end of spring, I was assigned to another therapist, at a place called “BUP”, which stands for “Barn och Ungdomspsykiatri”, which roughly translates into “Child and adolescent psychiatry”.
Sadly, I didn’t click with the new therapist, and I stopped going there, which I now know was a mistake. I shut them out, refused to think they’d be able to help me. Eh.. I was put on antidepressants before abruptly stopping, after taking 12 pills on the same time. It wasn’t lethal to me due to that mum made me puke the majority of it up, but I did feel crappy after it. I realized my pain inflicted pain upon my mother. I hated myself, I hated that I caused my mother so much pain.
By now, I had turned to gaming, spending all my free time playing online games, isolating myself from the outside world.
As previously said, I am now 18 years old, and I’m still battling my depression. I fear it might not go away, because I’ve been bottling it all up and allowed it to consume my soul.
All I do now… is playing games and writing stories, and for some reason.. I felt like sharing mine.