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Untitled
Anonymous
The depression had set in and I was letting it take charge of my life. I was 22 years old and I felt as if no one understood what I felt. Like no one really cared how I felt. I had a new boyfriend that didn't seem to mind that I cut myself compulsivly. I lied about the scars and cuts that were visible. I would sink into my own world. Writing suicide notes just to see how it sounded.
My depression slowly started to creep in at around 14 years old. I withdrew into myself. I shut everyone out of my life. And now at 22 I had succesfully band everyone from my life. I only talked and associated with people when I had to.
Finally one day I had had enough. I couldn't stand it anymore. I went into my bathroom, closed and locked the door, ran a bathtub full of water, got in and started to cry. I must have held that razor blade for and hour. Just looking at it. Knowing that familiar sting that it causes. I closed me eyes and put the blade to my wrist. I never even felt it. With my eyes still closed I cut the other one. I couldn't see the blood but I knew the water was turning red. I sat for a few minutes with my eyes closed. Hoping I had done the right thing. When I opened my eyes there was blood everywhere. Much more than I expected. My arm was hanging over the side of the tub. I heard my boyfriend in the other room. There was 2 doors to the bathroom and I guess I had forgotten to lock one of them because he barged in. He stood and looked at me in shock. I couldn't speak. I was getting light headed and things seem to be getting dim.
I woke up the next day in the hospital. I couldn't even open my hands. I felt more pain in my wrists than I had ever felt by cutting myself.
Today I am 28, and after 3 years of intense therapy I am very happily married. I have 2 kids. And I have to look at my scars every single day. My husband sees them and questions why I would ever do something like that. All I can tell him is he wouldn't understand what I was going through. Even though 6 years has gone by I still sturggle with depression. Some people take medication or go see therapists. All I do is look at my kids, my husband and be thankful that I am still here to enjoy them. My kids wouldn't exist without me. Things get tough for me sometimes. I get a little over stressed and panic. Worried that I won't be able to deal with it much longer. But I know that I'm stronger than that. And no matter how bad things seem, you can overcome. I did.