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druidspellThey say it gets better; sometimes it doesn't.
Today I told Fi (and Jay, and Tessa, and Das, and Rebekah, and Ria even though I ran out of characters before I could mention her) that they saved me. And in a big way, that's true.
I've been suffering from major depression for close to 18 years. I was 10 the first time I tried to divide up my property (Bridgette, Jeanna and Maria were getting most of my stuff) in the closest approximation I could manage to a Last Will and Testament. When I was 11, I started thinking of ways to kill myself.
The first time I actually attempted suicide was November 21, 1999. It was a Sunday, the day before my 7th grade retreat with my classmates to the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth Motherhouse, 4 days before my 13th birthday. I'd had the latest in a long line of fights with my dad and he knocked me around some, and I was convinced he wouldn't care if I was dead. So I went back to my room, pulled a plastic bag over my head, tied a woven belt around my neck as tight as it would go, and tied my hands as best I could.
(Suffocating yourself is a slow, painful process. It gives you a lot of time to panic.)
I tried again; the next time, I went into the garage and turned the car on with the door closed. I was starting to get sleepy (carbon monoxide is a lot gentler) when my mom came out to the garage.
(Just think how smart I could have been if I hadn't tried to suffocate myself to death as a teenager...)
I wanted to take pills, but I knew they could pump my stomach, and it was another slow death that would give me time to panic and ruin this for myself. I thought about slitting my wrists, but I didn't know which was the right way and which was the wrong way to cut. I didn't want to blow my brains out; too messy, and besides: my dad traumatized me with the threat to blow his own brains out when I was in first or second grade, and I wanted to get away from him and be nothing like him, not kill myself the same way he threatened to.
So I moved on to self harm; I stabbed myself with pencils until I bled, scraped the sharp edges of my keys against my palms until they were raw, bit my wrists and arms, scratched myself until I tore the skin. I had a lot of "accidents" shaving my legs.
When I was in 8th grade, I discovered NeoPets. From there, I found Dark Forest Weyr, where I met Fi and Tessa (although I was mostly only friends with Fi at that point). I also met Shannon, who started a new Weyr called Valihi. Valihi introduced me to Das, strengthened my ties to Tessa and Fi, and was a place where I was in with the in crowd for the first time in my life. It didn't matter what I looked or sounded like; it didn't matter how smart I was or how socially and physically awkward I was; it mattered that I could write coherent sentences and interact textually. The rule at Valihi was that we left the drama at the door--as long as we stuck to that, we did okay.
I still don't know all of what drove my friends to seek shelter online; I know bits and pieces, but not everyone's whole story. And at a time when I was floundering, desperate to die and just not be in pain anymore, their friendship was all that kept me going--getting home to the computer and my friends helped me forget my soul-crushing loneliness in meatspace, my distance from my parents and my resentment toward them for not noticing and downplaying my suicide attempts and thoughts, the bullying and ostracizing that I endured at school and from my older sister.
They saved me.
Tessa was the second person I came out to--I did it via MSN, but only because that was the only way we communicated. (I'd have told her face to face if I could.)
Fiona was someone who I could relate to on a level that was more natural than anything I'd ever experienced. Talking to her was an incredibly validating experience; just knowing I wasn't the only person like me was a relief that lifted a huge weight off of me.
Das (I know your name is Andrea, but considering I have a sister named Andrea and the fact that I didn't learn that until years after I met you, Das will stick) was a welcome respite from what could be a drama-intensive crowd; she was one of the first people I talked to about things other than RP--lighthearted or serious things, it didn't matter; friendship was easy with her.
Jay... She made me a promise that has been one of the only things that kept me going through really dark times; neither of us are prepared to live without the other, so both of us will just keep living. The idea of being without her...if it happens, it'll be like living without a lung.
Maria held me together, quite literally in a sense, when I felt like the friendships I'd built were collapsing under the strain of distance and drama. She sat with me in the guidance counselor's office when I finally admitted to self-harm in high school and she never let go of my hand, not even when my mom arrived. Mom took a seat on the other side of me for a while; Ria missed homeroom and 2 classes to sit and hold my hand while I trembled and wept.
Rebekah was someone who, in high school, I felt challenged but not threatened by; some friendly competition, not cut-throat rivalry. In college, her horror when I wrote about my 2nd unhappy anniversary was basically the last piece of evidence I needed to confirm that we were real friends--not just convenient, not just people who were friends in high school and were comfortable to have around in college. She may not always understand, but she always wants to know.
In a very real way, these are the women you should thank if you've enjoyed knowing me at all in the last 11.5 years. These are the women who gave me a reason to keep going when all I wanted to do was stop. These are my superheroines.
And even though this depression may last the rest of my life, these are the women who kept me alive long enough to live that life.
Today I told Fi (and Jay, and Tessa, and Das, and Rebekah, and Ria even though I ran out of characters before I could mention her) that they saved me. And in a big way, that's true.
I've been suffering from major depression for close to 18 years. I was 10 the first time I tried to divide up my property (Bridgette, Jeanna and Maria were getting most of my stuff) in the closest approximation I could manage to a Last Will and Testament. When I was 11, I started thinking of ways to kill myself.
The first time I actually attempted suicide was November 21, 1999. It was a Sunday, the day before my 7th grade retreat with my classmates to the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth Motherhouse, 4 days before my 13th birthday. I'd had the latest in a long line of fights with my dad and he knocked me around some, and I was convinced he wouldn't care if I was dead. So I went back to my room, pulled a plastic bag over my head, tied a woven belt around my neck as tight as it would go, and tied my hands as best I could.
(Suffocating yourself is a slow, painful process. It gives you a lot of time to panic.)
I tried again; the next time, I went into the garage and turned the car on with the door closed. I was starting to get sleepy (carbon monoxide is a lot gentler) when my mom came out to the garage.
(Just think how smart I could have been if I hadn't tried to suffocate myself to death as a teenager...)
I wanted to take pills, but I knew they could pump my stomach, and it was another slow death that would give me time to panic and ruin this for myself. I thought about slitting my wrists, but I didn't know which was the right way and which was the wrong way to cut. I didn't want to blow my brains out; too messy, and besides: my dad traumatized me with the threat to blow his own brains out when I was in first or second grade, and I wanted to get away from him and be nothing like him, not kill myself the same way he threatened to.
So I moved on to self harm; I stabbed myself with pencils until I bled, scraped the sharp edges of my keys against my palms until they were raw, bit my wrists and arms, scratched myself until I tore the skin. I had a lot of "accidents" shaving my legs.
When I was in 8th grade, I discovered NeoPets. From there, I found Dark Forest Weyr, where I met Fi and Tessa (although I was mostly only friends with Fi at that point). I also met Shannon, who started a new Weyr called Valihi. Valihi introduced me to Das, strengthened my ties to Tessa and Fi, and was a place where I was in with the in crowd for the first time in my life. It didn't matter what I looked or sounded like; it didn't matter how smart I was or how socially and physically awkward I was; it mattered that I could write coherent sentences and interact textually. The rule at Valihi was that we left the drama at the door--as long as we stuck to that, we did okay.
I still don't know all of what drove my friends to seek shelter online; I know bits and pieces, but not everyone's whole story. And at a time when I was floundering, desperate to die and just not be in pain anymore, their friendship was all that kept me going--getting home to the computer and my friends helped me forget my soul-crushing loneliness in meatspace, my distance from my parents and my resentment toward them for not noticing and downplaying my suicide attempts and thoughts, the bullying and ostracizing that I endured at school and from my older sister.
They saved me.
Tessa was the second person I came out to--I did it via MSN, but only because that was the only way we communicated. (I'd have told her face to face if I could.)
Fiona was someone who I could relate to on a level that was more natural than anything I'd ever experienced. Talking to her was an incredibly validating experience; just knowing I wasn't the only person like me was a relief that lifted a huge weight off of me.
Das (I know your name is Andrea, but considering I have a sister named Andrea and the fact that I didn't learn that until years after I met you, Das will stick) was a welcome respite from what could be a drama-intensive crowd; she was one of the first people I talked to about things other than RP--lighthearted or serious things, it didn't matter; friendship was easy with her.
Jay... She made me a promise that has been one of the only things that kept me going through really dark times; neither of us are prepared to live without the other, so both of us will just keep living. The idea of being without her...if it happens, it'll be like living without a lung.
Maria held me together, quite literally in a sense, when I felt like the friendships I'd built were collapsing under the strain of distance and drama. She sat with me in the guidance counselor's office when I finally admitted to self-harm in high school and she never let go of my hand, not even when my mom arrived. Mom took a seat on the other side of me for a while; Ria missed homeroom and 2 classes to sit and hold my hand while I trembled and wept.
Rebekah was someone who, in high school, I felt challenged but not threatened by; some friendly competition, not cut-throat rivalry. In college, her horror when I wrote about my 2nd unhappy anniversary was basically the last piece of evidence I needed to confirm that we were real friends--not just convenient, not just people who were friends in high school and were comfortable to have around in college. She may not always understand, but she always wants to know.
In a very real way, these are the women you should thank if you've enjoyed knowing me at all in the last 11.5 years. These are the women who gave me a reason to keep going when all I wanted to do was stop. These are my superheroines.
And even though this depression may last the rest of my life, these are the women who kept me alive long enough to live that life.
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