I write to let go; hence, I’m writing my painful journey to let go of the pain that has been crushing me since I was 12.
As I got really positive feedback from you guys in response to my last post; So, here it is, my story unfiltered… No beautifying fragments, no strong vocabulary, no artificiality…
I remember when I was in 3rd grade I had to change schools. I went from one of the smaller, less popular schools to the most popular one in the city. Everyone was so rude and so self-absorbed making me feel so inferior. I think this is where everything started going wrong. Anyway, being the kind of person that I am I made my place in that school, soon I was also one of the popular students and everything was fine… till it wasn’t.
I remember my first suicide attempt it was in 6th grade, I was only 12 y/o … I’m not sure how I was triggered or how long I was this messed up I just remember kissing my little brother thinking it would be the last time I’ll see him but fortunately it wasn’t. My second suicide attempt was in 8th grade, to be honest I shouldn’t call these “suicide attempts” I simply thought that I was committing suicide but the things that I was over-dozing were not as poisonous as my parents bragged about them being. Anyway, from my second attempt I accidentally developed a practice of self-harm which up to this day remains.
I remember in the beginning all I thought of it was a cathartic practice, later on I watched a documentary about self-harm and I realized it wasn’t actually good. Even my religion was against all sorts of self-harm. Now I was living in guilt, thinking that I was sinning and making myself vulnerable to all sorts of skin infections and diseases but I just couldn’t stop; I was just so used to cutting myself every two weeks.
Other than cutting I used to;
Scratch my skin, cut the tips of my hair, hold pointy or sharp things in my hands and pressed them until I couldn’t bear the pain.
It wasn’t until I was 16 y/o that I finally met someone who helped me get through this tough time. My rate of self-harm from twice a month reduced to twice a year. I was happy about it but you know like everything in the world, human relationships and friendships also come to an end, and I went back to that dark place where I suffered from insomnia, depression and very occasional anxiety. That’s when I first started taking Xanax without a proper prescription. I didn’t know the proper dose I was supposed to take so I started with a 20 mg pill (which is too much, now I know) it helped me sleep but later I increased that dose to two pills and I even took three pills. It was about time I realized I was getting addicted to it and it took me almost two months to get off that addiction by lowering my dose by half pill every week.
This was during the time I was also applying for a medical college; I was one of the A+ students so my parents, teachers and classmates were expecting me to easily make it in a medical school. Flash-forward: I tried twice and still couldn’t make it. This again led me to drown even more into the well of self-pity. Even average students who studied for two years in pre-medical made it in the med-school and I didn’t even make it in three years. My family kept reminding me how I was a failure and seeing my friends go on and live their lives at fullest was agonizing. I wanted to be happy for them, and I was but I was just too sad for myself.
I decided to join a university and pursue BS-honors with English as my major as I was good in literature.
4th February, 2017 =My birthday
The worst birthday ever! I got into a fight with both of my uncles and I wasn’t ready to bow down this time in front of their egos so I stood 6 feet tall and told them to Fuck off. They did leave me alone but my relationship with my dad got pretty messed up.
5th February, 2017
I started university with still swollen eyes, bloody wrists and insecure heart. My father didn’t call me for 4 months and that made my state even worse that I had to go to student counselor three times a week. When she wasn’t able to help me she sent me up to the student therapist. I only took two sessions with her and I was like “I’m out!”
First semester was okay because I was staying with friends that were from my hometown but later I got into the university dorm and I was left alone again.. All alone with a blade, judgmental eyes, an aching heart and no will to live. At least not until I went to the university doctor, who happened to be a professional psychotherapist, to get my limb tremors checked.
There I made a friend and she made a client.
This was getting too long so I decided to divide it into two updates. This is the dark part, bright part is yet to be published. Thanks for the support guys. ❤