In seventh grade, I first experienced real sadness. My mother's boyfriend got another woman pregnant, my brother was on drugs, and my mom had filed a Department of Child Safety report against my father for his disastrous house. I was being stretched in a million ways it felt like, especially with my father. He always guilt tripped me and made me feel bad; he even took me in the house when he wasn't supposed to and told me it was a secret. My brother had been in and out of the house and the streets. My mom was at a crappy job and was just so stressed all the time. So, when fall finals came around in seventh grade I was overwhelmed with school stress and family stress.
That's when I first ever hurt myself. I took my craft blade and sliced a couple tiny slits on the left arm. I drew blood and I felt so much better. A few days before I hurt myself, my mothers boyfriend was over and they left to go to my neighbors. I remember after they shut the door I just let out a loud, high pitched scream and laid in bed for the rest of the night. When my mom came home she asked why I had screamed so loud and I just said I saw a roach.
In eighth grade, I was still struggling with same issues and I got stressed out right around fall finals again. I don't remember much what I did but I remember beginning to cry a lot. I didn't hurt myself this year and I kept everything bottled in.
In tenth grade, everything hit the fan. My mother finally left her boyfriend a year prior, my brother was in and out of rehabs, and my relationship with my father was deteriorating. My best friend at the time was a blonde boy, he was the best and I began to like him in the summer between freshman and sophomore year. He had started to get new friends in the fall and soon got a girlfriend who was really good friends with me. When she was with someone who looked like my best friend, she told me she had feelings for my best friend. When they got together, I avoided them a lot because I was so sad about it. I remember a phone cal in particular that broke me heart. He said I wasn't being a good friend because I was making him choose and he would always choose me but he would be miserable if he did. So, I let him go. That night, I stabbed a needle in six spots on my arm to create a circle to remind me life is circular. It just keeps going if you don't change it. It wasn't a fantastic reminder because I continued to stab the circle in my arm. Again, fall finals approached and I cried a lot more than usual. I began to feel increasingly sad so I told a few friends. I kept saying I wanted to die, I wish I was dead, I wish I could die accidentally, etc. People kept getting worried so I promised if I didn't feel better by after break or some lump of time I would talk to an adult.
It was January 10th. My appointment with my school counsellor was supposed to be on the 12th but it was pushes forward because I had worried him. I walked into his office and handed him my computer with a letter saying what I felt. We talked for a while then he called crisis and my mother. Crisis determines if you are well enough to come home. Spoiler alert, they said I was allowed to go home. I though my mother was going be to angry at me but she was just worried. I was asked an abundance questions about how I felt mentally and physically. Then my mother was questioned and my school counsellor was asked a few questions. After meeting with all of us, crisis decided I was able to go home and they said I should live life like a kid and learn to destress.
I still haven't learned to live like a kid.
