The Not So Average Life of a Teen

Abandonment

        As a result of the divorce, my mom gained full custody of my brother and I, and my dad had partial custody. This meant I saw my dad every Tuesday and Thursday, and every other Saturday. Eventually, every Tuesday and Thursday became every other Tuesday and Thursday. Then it was just every other Saturday. Then it became one Saturday per month. And finally it became randomly scattered, sometimes not seeing my dad for months. And when I do see my dad, it's to see a two hour movie. The car rides are silent as a bond between father and son has been broken. While I'm lucky enough to see my dad, I do not have a dad. I have a man who takes me to see a movie once every three months.
         As if losing my dad was not enough, I began to lose friends. All of my closest friends would stop talking to me because they got "cooler" friends. When I was in sixth grade, I had no real friends. I had people to talk to about random stuff, but they were not friends. I would feel lonely every day at school. No one to sit with at lunch. Always alone on school projects. No invitations to birthday parties. I was even to afraid to have my own birthday parties for fear that no one would show up.
Throughout sixth grade, I never really felt happy except when I was playing online video games with friends I made online. Since then, internet friends have been a big part of my life. But back to the point, between sixth and seventh grade, I noticed I felt sad all the time. I was lonely. Abandoned. I started to feel like I had no worth in life. I always assumed I had depression, but I was too afraid and ashamed to talk about it until eighth grade when I was eventually diagnosed with depression and anxiety.
At the end of my freshmen year, the situation with my dad worsened. It got to the point where my dad would say he's coming to see me, and then he would never show up and not say a word about it. I would call him and he would never answer the phone. My dad was ignoring me and forgetting me. He was moving on. This coupled with new friends abandoning me built up so much pain that was waiting to explode inside me. This explosive was set off when my grandpa died of a heart attack.
         After my grandpa died, I went into a dark state. I quit baseball and never left my room. I had mornings where I couldn't get out of bed. I started to hate life and I couldn't see any reason to be alive anymore. Everything seemed pointless. On the darkest night of my life, I took a pair of scissors and stabbed my wrist in an attempt to commit suicide. That night, my mom's meeting at work was canceled so my mom came home early. She was able to get me to the hospital in time, and the doctors stopped the bleeding and saved my life. And that's where the story is continuing. Two weeks ago today, I tried to commit suicide. I truly believe that me surviving was a miracle. Which makes sense, considering all life is a miracle.