Letter #120

Content warning: Self harm, Suicidal thoughts/tendencies/actions, anxiety, depression, therapy and self deprecation

In 7th grade, I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression. I knew the way I felt wasn’t how I would typically feel, but I thought I was overreacting. I started to become bullied at school and suicidal thoughts began to develop more commonly. However, I never told anyone because I felt like I was mistaken. I told my dad who worked in the medical field about my mental health, yet he brushed it off thinking I was upset about him taking away my phone. My parents had realized they made a grave mistake when my friend’s family appeared at my house informing my parents that they thought I committed suicide, and I could hear them drowning in their own tears in my room.

Another of my friends reached out to the school counselor, after I vented to them about my recent state. I told my counselor about how tired I felt and how much it hurt just to be alive. I was passed around from a medical center, to a therapist, and then to a hospital where I was extremely isolated. My arms bled all over the place and my emotional body was hurt. So many doctors from all over the place kept having one-on-one conversations with me, and I was very tired. I also admitted to having attempted suicide before.

My mom came into my room with her eyes swollen from tears. This might sound a bit weird, but I remember having a plan to get a dog and then commit suicide because my family would remember me by the dog, and I told this to her. For my birthday, I got a dog and before I continued my plan, I actually felt a lot better. After all the pain and suffering, I took therapy for a couple of months and I made more friends at school. I started working on myself a lot more physically and mentally. Today, I still have that dog and sometimes she serves as a reminder of the battle that I endured.

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