Journal N°1 --Stupor

Young and Numb

July 30th 2019

I hate myself... a lot.

I think everyone else hates me too, and if they don't then I question their sanity. I'm currently 15 years old, my birthday was in February on the 11th. I had my 'party' in rehab, I actually spent quite a few holidays there : Halloween I was in juvie, Thanksgiving was in rehab, Christmas was there too, then New years as well, along with my birthday and Valentine's day.

I was released some time in March I think, my memory is a little shot so a lot of stuff is really fuzzy. That's after I got sober too, don't even get me started on the years leading up to that. It's just a drug fueled haze of misery and carnage.

You know how they say most drug addicts and mentals come from broken homes, I dont really know if I'd consider myself one of those people. I mean to the people I've talked to about it " I went through a bunch of trauma and was looking for a way to cope ", but in all honesty I've repressed that shit so hardcore it barely even effects me these days.

My mom is and always was a bit psycho, she's tried to kill herself more times than I can count on my fingers, and when I was little she would light her hair on fire. She would just do like crazy ass shit as a form of self harm, you know, hit herself when she was angry, try to jump out of a moving car.

Things have been a bit better now, I guess this is what you could consider the good times. Then again it usually does mellow out in the summer. My mom has Seasonal Bipolar Disorder and suicidal thoughts and actions. To this day I never know if I'm going to come home and shes going to be swinging from the ceiling fan by a belt, or lying with her wrists slit face down in a tub.

Then there's my dad, he's a bit of a different story, he likes to pretend that people dont actually have feelings and that emotions dont matter or only make you weak. I think hes always just been afraid that if I give into or even have emotions that I'll break down and harm myself like my mom.

Around a year and a half ago he had a seizure that triggered something in his brain, I forget what it's called, but I found him that morning twitching on the floor. I thought he was ODing on heroin so I wasn't going to call the cops, it was in the middle of my addiction and I dont know it seemed like a good idea at the time, I tried to wake him up and pick him up myself but I was only a 14 year old girl that weighed probably like 70-80 pounds so I went over to my dads friend that was staying in the shed and asked him to help me pick him up and set him on the couch. He was the one to call the cops, an ambulance came over and asked if had been using anything, I said no. So they took him to the ER.

While I went and got high as fuck... yeah I know I'm a terrible human being, I didn't even cry I was too shocked, too empty to feel anything. All I could do was fiend.

Eventually some one came by to pick me up and take me to the hospital to see him... they had me sit in the waiting room while the rest of the family went first.

When it was my turn to go in, they told me to say my last goodbyes and told the rest of the family to make arrangements for me... they told us he was going to die.

Fortunately he was life flighted to Harborview Medical Center, which is a hospital in Seattle that specializes in cases like his. He was in a coma and would remain that was for about a month.

The first two days were spent locating my mom, it turned out that she was at her boyfriend's house taking care of his granddaughter. Which doesn't seem like it was a big thing but it was one of the most painful parts. She was taking care of someone else, instead of me, in my time of need she prioritized someone else's kid over her own... sometimes I wonder if I did something that makes her hate me so much.

She didn't even let me stay with them, or come back with me, I had to go stay with my aunt.

When I went to school that next Monday I told one of my good friends and I just broke down, right there in the hallway, it was the first time i cried about it, and boy do I regret it. Later another one of my friends ridiculed me for crying at school, she said I was a pussy and an attention seeker... when in reality I just wasn't able to hold it all in anymore.

I spent the next few days trying to keep it together... boy did I fail.

I spiraled into substance abuse and self harm, leaving me torn up and soulless.