My story (WSPD)

With all of the Mibba users posting their personal stories about suicide, I figured I would post mine. It's kind of a long story, so bare with me, and thank you in advance if you read through it all.

I've been battling with depression for the last six to seven years. I was in the middle of my freshman year of high school when it started. I had gone to my orthopedic doctor for a checkup on my hips, and to see why I was having so much trouble with them again. You see, the growth plates in both of my hips slipped when I was 10 and 12 years old. I've had to get surgery on both of them, putting 2 pins in my left, and only 1 on the right. A year after each surgery, I had the pins removed. A year or so after the last surgery, I was having a lot of pain in them. It almost felt like I just had surgery in them again, and it worried me.

So I went to my appointment, and had Xrays done on both hips. I can remember my pediatric orthopedic doctor came in, along with three or four other orthopedic doctors. My doctor had explained that the intensity of the surgeries had caused my hips to get arthritis in them. They also caused my right hip to start slowly degenerate, which was causing my ball and socket joint to get messed up. That same day, the doctors explained that I would need a hip replacement by the time I'm in my 30's, a lot earlier than anyone who ever needs one. He also explained that I needed to be extremely careful in my day-to-day activities; no running, jumping, skipping, or even going up and down stairs too much. The last sentence he said to me before he said his goodbyes and left the room was "When you get older and start following a career path, you need to be careful with what you choose. As long as you don't become a teacher, doctor, nurse, or anything that requires a lot of activity on your legs. Then we should be able to preserve those hips for a few extra years."

Guess what I wanted to go to college for? An elementary school teacher.

As soon as he left the room, I cried my eyes out. I was so depressed and so heartbroken, I had no idea what to do with myself. I even stayed out of school for a few weeks because I was so physically sick from the news. Ever since I was five, I've wanted to become a teacher. It's something I have always dreamed of doing. I still can't imagine doing anything else. All through high school I didn't bother doing any work. Why did it matter? I couldn't be a teacher, so what else was there to do?

Fast forward to senior year. That's when my world turned around a little bit. A representative came in to my English class and talked to us about The Art Institutes. She explained the courses the school offered, and what the courses were. I was highly interested, especially because I had taught myself HTML and Photoshop, so that was up my ally. I had asked a lot of questions during the presentation; so many where she approached me at the end of the class and said I should apply. She gave me a business card to a student advisor at the closest school to me, and asked me for my information so she could relay it to the advisor. By July of 2009, a month after I graduated high school, I became a full time student at The Art Institute for Digital Design. I was finally happy with how life was going. I was actually doing something with myself, and carving out a new career path for myself; one that I could do without risking the health of my hips.

During my time there, I was having fun. I enjoyed all of my classes, and I was doing well in them. I had met friends there, and hung out with them every day. I was happy, especially because my depression took a backseat. But then 9 months after I started classes, something horrible happened to me. I was upset about something, and my friend invited me to a movie and to hang out at her place for the night. I said sure, why not? We had gotten back to her place, and her roommate was there. I had met him and talked to him a few times, so it wasn't a big deal. She had to go to sleep because she had work in the morning, and me and her roommate were talking, so I stayed up for a little big longer, which I never should have done. I told him I was upset, and he took that to his advantage and took advantage of me. I had lost my virginity in one of the worst of ways. I tried to get away from letting it happen, but he kept saying it would be fine, it would be okay, I would feel better, etc. I didn't want to, but I gave in. The next day, I was so mad and upset with myself. I couldn't believe I let it happen. I felt so dirty, and honestly felt like a whore. I was so disgusted with myself. What made me feel even worse, was that he messaged me a week later, saying that "if I was ever upset or depressed again, that he'll come get me and he'll make it all better". That was the icing to the cake. I cried, and cried, and cried. I felt so filthy and used. I concentrated on my school work and my other best friend, trying to forget all about what had happened.

After a year of attending AI, I noticed I wasn't happy there. I had gotten bored with my major, and didn't even like opening Photoshop at all. I realized that digital design was a hobby for me, not a career. So I dropped out and moved back home of May 2010.

Months after leaving, depression was setting in again, but with a vengeance. I felt like a complete fuck up. I had gone to school and had no degree to show for it. I could barely move out of bed because of how bad my hips were hurting. I had no job, I wasn't going to school; I just felt like a screw up. Finally, after having serious talks with my parents and an inner battle with myself, I had called a local community college in my area, and had planned on starting classes there in January 2011 for elementary education. I didn't care about what the doctors said; I just wanted to be happy.

But I still wasn't happy. Even though I was starting school again in only a month (it was December by this point), I was more depressed than ever. I felt miserable because I owed (and still owe) over $40,000, and now I'm gonna owe this community college more money. I still was having trouble moving because of my hips. Hell, I could barely go to the bathroom, and that was only 5 feet from my bedroom. I was so depressed, I had thought about suicide. I had cut myself before in high school and had contemplated it some, but these thoughts were getting more serious by the day. Just then, my mom had gotten narcotics because she was having back problems, but found out she was allergic to the medicine, so she said I could have them, but I would have to ask her for them so I wouldn't get addicted. I ended up finding them one day, and contemplated taking all of them, and just ending it. I felt like I had no friends, I felt like I was a screw up to my family, and I felt like they would all be better off without me. I didn't talk to anyone about it, because I figured no one would care. Everyone had their own lives to deal with, so I didn't bother. I had finally came up with a plan; I would do it after New Years, after everyone had settled from the holidays and went back to their routine. I had everything planned out. I even had my suicide note written out. I had the plan, I just had to wait.

Thankfully, I did wait. Because late at night on December 22nd, I found out I was in pregnant and in labor. December 23rd, at 7:30am, I gave birth to a 7lb 8oz 21 inches long healthy son.

He must have been telling my body to wait to follow through with my plan, because you bet I didn't try to follow through with it after having him. He has made my life so much better, and made me realize that life IS worth living for. Don't get me wrong, I still battle with depression a lot, and yes, I still have suicide thoughts. But the thoughts only stay thoughts. I don't make plans, I don't think it through, nothing. My son has helped me so much with my depression. He has helped me look at the greener side of life. He has helped me realize that I would be missed; that I am loved. He has helped me realize that I am not a screw up. He helped me realize that my parents are proud of me, and don't think I'm using them (because I feared that, also). He is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, and I thank God every day for him.

If you read all the way through, thank you so much for taking the time and reading it. I am glad I got it off of my chest. And I want to send a message for anyone feeling depressed, suicidal, alone, etc.

Please do me a favor and talk to me, or anyone, if you feel suicidal. I am ALWAYS here for anyone and everyone to talk to. I don't care if we don't know each other, never have talked before, and you just read this because I tagged it with WSPD. Even if you don't want to talk to me, call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255. I can't promise you things will get better, but you will learn how to cope with things better throughout life, and be able to meet new people who can help you cope, and help you overall. You ARE worth it, I promise that. <3
September 12th, 2013 at 09:00am