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Part of My Struggle

A Battle with Depression, Severe Anxiety Disorder, Chronic Illnesses, and Suicide

By Ashley VandersteenPublished 6 years ago 6 min read
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So in February I finally made it to 18—13- and 14- year-old me didn't think I would make it this far. At those ages I was starting to be diagnosed with multiple chronic illnesses, my dad was officially disabled, we had to move out of my childhood home and into my abusive aunt's house, my mom went to college and was gone most of the time taking classes, and I was forced to do a lot of the work on my aunt's ranch.

I didn't realize how bad it was going to get. I thought my aunt loved me, and that my mom going to college would be okay. But nothing was okay. I was in charge of cleaning 15 horse stalls either by myself or with my sister, taking care of four dogs, doing any indoor chores my aunt gave me, and then babysitting my cousin's boyfriend's 7-year-old son for at least three hours every day after school and help him with his homework and keeping him occupied.

I would then start my own homework around 7:30-8:00 PM every night after barn night chores. I would then pull all-nighters or barely sleep to make sure I got my work done. I lost a lot of weight and went into a downward mental spiral.

I was also diagnosed with multiple chronic illnesses around this time, and some things were not diagnosed due to poorly educated doctors. I was diagnosed with "headaches" and being "double-jointed" while in reality I have intractable migraines and Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, hypermobile type. I had extreme anxiety disorder and very severe depression, but no one knew because I hid it. I felt that my parents had enough to take care of and I also thought that I had no business putting my problems on other people.

My aunt was verbally abusive and eventually became slightly physically abusive. It started with her picking on my eating habits saying I was "Wide enough for my age." I already have an incurable eating disorder that was diagnosed two years ago (in 2016), and sadly, my aunt was making it worse. I started to binge, but never purge. I also started starving myself because I didn't want my aunt to see me eating and then start making comments about my looks.

I was also in charge of caring for her four dogs. I would wake up in the morning and clean up multiple piles of feces and multiple puddles of urine because my aunt refused to let them outside before she went to work, and because my sister never wanted to touch any of it, so I would spend half-an-hour almost every morning cleaning up dog messes and mopping the floors to disinfect and clean up left over feces.

My aunt also began physically abusing me. I would be cleaning and she would trip me, I wasn't allowed to use the dishwasher, and she began pulling me from the shower after five minutes because she "Didn't want to pay the damn bill" even though my parents payed all the water, electric, gas, and food bills.

Not having my mom to talk to for the first time in my life was absolutely devastating for me. My mom was a stay-at-home mom most of my life and she was always around to talk to. She was now sleeping three hours a night and the rest of the time she was working, going to class, and doing homework. I really did miss her, and I felt horrible watching her destroy herself to earn her degree.

My depression got worse as time went on, and I eventually became suicidal. I was thinking of all the ways I could end things, but I was afraid of pain. I decided I would gather a bunch of prescription medications and ibuprofen and try to take it all.

As I lifted a hand to my mouth, I thought of my mother. I thought of what would happen to her if I left. I thought of her crying with my body in her arms. I thought of how she would most likely end her own life.

That's what made me put my hand down and put the medicine back in its bottle. My mother saved me without even knowing it. My mother has continued to save me since that event. She is the one who convinced me to get help, and she also assisted me with life after the event to help me get back to as normal of a life as well as I could.

My other struggle with suicide happened at my grandparent's house. My family had moved there after we decided we had to leave me aunt's house. My family lived in the upstairs area of my grandparents' house. My parents had the guest room, but my sister and I shared the open loft. We had no way to "close" our room. We had to change, sleep, talk, and more out in the open with no privacy. I am very grateful that we were in a better place and had a roof over my head, but as a young girl, privacy was very important to me. My grandparents are very old fashioned, and after a few months, squabbles started breaking out over lifestyles and parenting techniques. I lost my grip on sanity and almost took pills again. I again thought of my mother, and didn't go through with my plan for her sake.

Anxiety is also hard and can ruin lives. People will always say you are overreacting and that you just need to "calm down." The reality of extreme anxiety disorder is that during an attack, there is no "calming down" or "getting over it." All you know is that in that moment it feels like your brain and skin have been replaced with bugs and that you can't catch your breath or slow down your thoughts.

When someone says "it's not that big of a deal" when I tell them I have an anxiety disorder, I want to tell them about Tony Stark AKA Iron Man. This guy has an anxiety disorder and in one of the Iron Man movies (SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) he has a massive panic attack. In that very moment, Tony thinks that he had been poisoned. His panic/anxiety attack was so severe that he thought he was literally dying.

I have actually laughed at a doctor who told me "You are to young for this, just stop being anxious, tell yourself to stop and be healthy." I laughed because 1) that doesn't work, 2) Been there done that, and 3) I just paid for you to say that to me and then do nothing else to help me. Gotta love health care.

I eventually found a psychiatrist who believed me and helped me start medicines and therapy. I remember laying in bed a couple weeks after starting my meds and realizing my brain was not filled with thoughts whipping around and jumbling together. I called my mom in because I thought I was having a stroke or something and I remember her laughing to herself. She explained that the medicine was helping and that what I was feeling was a good thing.

I really recommend getting the help you need. It is 100 percent worth it and it not only helps you, but it helps your family too by getting you back into their lives in a positive way.

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