Mental Health Journey

Where did it all begin? Well, that’s a long story. So I suppose I should get started.

The first signs began when I was in high school. I was only 14 years old, but I was told that at 14-year-old girl can’t be depressed because they don’t even know what depression is.

You’re right. I didn’t know the meaning behind it, I still don’t six years later. But, I knew how it felt.

It was paralysing, it effected me in many different ways. I couldn’t stop feeling the way I did and I couldn’t stop thinking negative thoughts. I would lie in bed and think to myself “Why me? What did I do to deserve this?” Did I deserve it? Sometimes I would agree that I did.

Since I was very young, I was an easy target for certain (damaged) individuals. Some of you may refer to them as “bullies”. I had a lot of those, I eventually lost count of how many people wanted my life to be a living hell. My safe haven was my bedroom, nobody could hurt me there. In my house there was nothing but love, for my brother and I. Which is what we needed, some TLC. My parents gave more than enough of it.

However, the world is a cruel place and children really don’t have much of a filter. Their parents can’t control the things that come out of their mouth when they are out from under their wings. The playground was the most threatening place, that’s where the bullies all were. They would hang around there like vultures, waiting for their pray to appear; me.

It was a very lonely time, which continued all the way through to high school. Even into college, believe it or not. College is the most shocking part for me, considering it's meant to hold people who should know right from wrong. I guess some people just don’t learn.

Referring back to when I was 14; this was very difficult as I was in the worst place where children/teenagers resided from 9 AM-3:30 PM. That was six hours and 30 minutes of pain. Don’t get me wrong, I loved going in to see the very few people who I would have considered my friends, but again, there were those people who would hang around like vultures. Those people in high school have the cliche of being referred to as the “popular”. The fame must have went to their heads and infested their ability to be nice and respectful to other certain individuals.

Sometimes I feel like the negative insults or opinions, as they would call it, are just their own insecurities being shoved onto those less fortunate. By them calling me ugly, it made them feel much better about themselves as this was an indication that they felt they were much more attractive than me, so they weren’t at the “bottom”. Their actions would also affect their victims, so much that the victims would adopt their behaviours and target someone else. The endless cycle continued, and probably still continues dix years later, in 2018.

Those that are reading this, some of you may be thinking “I am/was a victim” or “I am/was a bully”. I suppose that's okay, recognition is the first step to moving forward. Whichever way the path leads.

The negative thoughts that were being plummeted at me every day eventually affected my way of thinking too. I adopted their way of thinking, however it was internal. I began to feel as ugly as they said I was, as pathetic as they thought me. Because of the amount of bullying since I was around four, I wasn’t able to develop any confidence in myself. That was taken away from me before I could even experience it. I felt alone, and I didn’t want to feel that way anymore.

That is when the symptoms came into light, they were never noticed by myself but by my family and friends. However, denial is hard to get by. I didn’t believe them, because I didn’t want to admit that what those people were saying to me was affecting me so badly. I didn’t want them to win.

As you can see, my mind was deteriorating as in my head, the bullies were winning if I had admitted that something was wrong. So I kept it to myself, I bottled it up until eventually everything exploded...

So that's the beginning. This may seem like a lot to read, or perhaps not, but trust me there is A LOT more to this story. And I’m going to tell it, in the next story.

J.