The Diary of Me

Background on the Author.

Hello,

Many of these poems were written when I was younger and before I got the professional help I needed. These writing are triggering, I know this. This is the only warning I will give as you dive into the mind of me.

All versions of me are included. Both before I got help, while I was getting help, and me now. The suicidal me. The anxious me. The manic me. The hopeful me. The recovering me.

The first time I was institutionalized, I was thirteen. My parents knew I was self harming and extremely depressed, but it wasn't until I passed out in the school bathroom from a heroin overdose that they forced me into treatment. The treatment lasted one week and was ineffective.

Almost exactly a month later, I had to go back into the psychiatric hospital to combat further issues. This time, treatment was fourteen days. I told my psychiatrist at the hospital that I was not ready to leave and promised that if I left, I would kill myself. He told me to invite him to my funeral.

Roughly four days after being released, I put myself into a coma trying to commit suicide. I had to be airlifted to another state since my hospital did not have the technology to keep me alive. This is the treatment center where I finally became clean from heroin and learned to cope with my depression and anxiety. I stopped self harming and started seeing food as good, not the enemy. 

When I was sixteen, something went wrong. It was as if my brain glitched and I found myself feeling worse than ever before. I was put in the same psych ward as the first two times. The doctors thought I was hopeless, I was not allowed to talk to anyone the entire time- not even the staff. Two weeks later they released me. It's been four years and I still think I would have been better off not asking for help during this time.

The last time I was institutionalized, I was seventeen. I have no memory of what happened.