personal stories

Hi, I’m going to begin from the first event that contributed to my depression to the current date. When I
was 3 my brother was diagnosed with Epilepsy . So my parents had to give him all of this extra attention.
Constantly watching him. Doing special things for him. Stuff like that. When I was 5 years old I was
molested by my neighbor. My parents didn’t file a police report. I can’t remember why I just know that
they didn’t. Since my brother had Epilepsy he was harassed at school a lot. So he came home and yelled
at my mother and I. My brother hated me because he said I had a chance to be normal and he didn’t.

In the beginning it just verbal abuse. If I said something wrong he would freak and scream at me.
From about the time I started kindergarten to about 4 months ago my brother has hit me. Not like brotherly
love type hitting I mean causes bruises type hitting. Black eyes, bloody noses, other various abuse. In the
beginning I loved school. I loved kindergarten. Then I think that first grade was the worst year of my life.

Towards the end of first grade I was involved in a car accident. I was sitting in the front seat of a car
with my friends. My friends where older than me because I have a high vocabulary and kids my age
usually don’t know what I am talking about, I was with a 19 year and a 26 year old ( they were girls) and
a guy jumped out in front of her car and rolled up on the wind shield and his face smashed about 5 inches
from my face. Later when the cops arrived his girlfriend said that he was talking about killing himself but no
one believe him. I went home and cried hysterically. People at school bugged me about it. Teased me
about it and called me a killer. Even though I was seven and wasn’t driving it was my fault. I don’t how but
it was. After that my parents wanted me to talk to the school counselor and I told her about the molestation
when I was 5 and she ask if the police where ever involved and I said no, so she called the police. And one
of the officers said to my mom don’t you feel like a terrible mother for not have reporting it. I couldn’t deal with
everything that was going on in my life so one day I stayed home from school and I took my brothers Epilepsy
medication. My mom told me never to take them because one pill would hurt me. So I figured than seven
should kill me. I took them, went into a coma for 2 weeks, and when I woke up the pills messed up my head
worse than before. Instead of just being depressed I now had mood swings. Where I was happy , then crying,
then screaming, then laughing. The doctors insisted that I should go see a counselor. This counselor said that
I should take Zoloft. I didn’t want to take it. And to this day I don’t take pills for my depression. But anyway, I
took it for about a month then I started to get this feeling. I wanted so bad to be normal, and I thought to my
self normal kids don’t take pills. I started to hate pills. My mom would give them to me I would pretend to take
them then throw them away. Age seven was the year a started writing poetry. And have been ever sense.

About a year later I was seeing a different counselor. My mind races and I have a hard time concentrating, there
are a million thoughts a second. So they put on this drug I can’t remember the name but it was supposed to make
it so my mind wouldn’t race. It did for awhile then it stopped. School was really hard, not the work but the kids. When
everyone around you is so damn happy I guess they don’t understand when your not. I am defensive. I don’t know how
to take a joke. I guess. People say stuff to me I think that they are being serious . My mother told me it doesn’t matter
what look like it’s who you are. I believe that. So all though out grade school I hung out with the kids that no body
liked. I was teased about that. I seriously am so messed up. I have trouble sleeping. I just can’t fall asleep a lot of the
time. In school I was emotional because I was depressed and tired. When people said shit like why are you so sad why
can‘t you be normal. I wanted to die. See I am very non confrontational since my brother was always screaming at me
and hitting me. Therefore when kids say stuff to me I cry instead of fighting. I don’t get violent. I get depressed. Everyone
in my family is overweight. I have this deathly fear of being fat. So I am a border line anorexic. I’ve read books on it.

I know all of the effects of it. But I’m so afraid of getting fat that I don’t want to eat. Some people say that you should
enjoy childhood they are the best years of you life. They weren’t for me. My mom has arthritis in her knees so she can
barely walk. So from the wonderful age of seven I have been taking care of my entire family. I still do, I cook and clean
for everyone. Before I go to school in the morning I have to make my mom breakfast. I resent her a lot of the time. I love
her so much but at the same time I hate her for making me grow up when I should have had not a care in the world. I
hate where I live too. I hate being called trailer trash. I live in crappy little trailer park. In a crappy little trailer. So I
suppose that am. But I believe that it’s not where you live but who you are. I’ve seen trashy people who live in houses.

A few years ago my brother jumped on my back. He weighs about 300 pounds. My back hurt like hell. I went to the doctor.
He said something to me that pissed me off so bad that I wanted to kill him. He said that there was nothing wrong with my
back it was all in head. I no longer go to that doctor. I am not normal in any way. I can’t have a normal relationship. Since I
was molested when I was 5. And have no good male influences in my life. I like to have a boy friend for the companionship.

I don’t mind kissing but anything more than that gives my this creepy feeling. I swear no guy understands that. Or at least any
that I have met. I used to go to church. Not anymore, it seems like the closer that I get to god the worse my life gets. I hate
talking to counselors too because I feel like normal people don’t go to counselors. I’m sorry to anyone who reads this, my
mind races and I go from one thought to another. I skip from topic to topic. It’s choppy reading. I’m sorry, I’m in a pessimistic
mood. A lot of the time I think that no body gives a damn about me. In all likely hood I will die alone. I will never find a guy
who understands me. And I will forever be misunderstood. Gratefully forgotten. P.S. Please don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t
want pity I just want someone who has an impartial opinion and isn’t getting paid to listen my problems.

Sincerely, Jen-13


Hey, I never noticed this section before cos I use a direct link to the poetry forum but since I've noticed it I felt I should add my bit but well yeah. I don't know when I became depressed or if I even am. I do know that two years ago, my friend started having problems and cutting herself and stuff and we were very close and I just started doing it.. I don't know why. I've never really had any problems in my life... I mean, I always hated myslef and my body and I have a memory of when I was about 10 and I used to scratch my thumb with a drawing pin for some odd reason but anyway.

I started cutting with scissors on my legs... it didn't look so bad as my friends big gashes that I used to help her bandage everyday, just little scratches. No-one knew. Then things got worse. I did this shit for over a year. I also took the odd overdose on painkillers but never anything major. Then in January 2001 my anorexic friend (yes we;re a very fuct up group!) got sent to a clinic in London and I felt i had no-one as my other friend kinda went off. One morning I dont know why but i just took about 40 of these precription pills I had for my stomach (it used to get all knotted up from stress). I was in school throwing up and hallucinating and all this shit. It was the scariest thing ever. Then a few weeks later my friend was allowed to visit us for the weekend and we were all going bowling but i had a row with my parents and they said I couldnt go so I overdosed on the pills again.

This time really really badly. It scared the life out of me. After all this crap I figured suicide wasn't right as if it was I would have gone by now. I carried on cutting but then I started hanging around with a new group and I got a boyfriend and by about July I had stopped cutting altohether. Since then I cut quite a bit but hadn't since Novemberish 2001. That is, until last week. I don't know why I did it, I was drunk. I was putting away the dishes and the knives were just there. I'd never done it with knives before but I mauled the back of my hand. Luckily I have pet rats so I guess my mum assumed it was that.

Then i got drunk on saturday and I was happy but for some reason I wasnt. I dont know. I just picked up these razor blades I had and scratched my neck. I also keep having "episodes" and moodswings and shit. I dont know whats started it all off again,. one of my friends reckons its cos I've left school and theres no routine in my life. I dont really hang out with anyone either so im stuck inside on my own all day with nothing to do. I dont know. God this is long. I wont be suprised if it isnt put up! LoL. Oh well, it felt good to get al this off my chest even if it is for nothing.

*Lita* 16, UK