I’ve been dealing with depression for half my life. Originally I thought that getting out of my parents house would help. there, I lived constantly waiting for the next incident, next fight, and the only way I ever learned to walk was on eggshells. I tried diving into painting, but it didn’t always work. By the time I graduated high school, I was cutting, throwing up and eating as little as possible almost every day.
I thought that moving away and attending college would help, but instead things only got worse. All of my bad behaviors became more frequent, to the point that they actually caused me problems. Every attempt that I made to get help ended in a blurred thought attempt.
Now, 2 years later, everything I had been able to do to control this finally has stopped working. watching this go on has weighed heavily on the people I care about.
I used to wonder if having me around was worse for them than me dying. I think I finally have an answer…