15 Years of Depression

I was diagnosed with depression and put on my first round of therapy when I was 9 years old. I went for a few sessions, then when my parents insurance didn’t cover anymore for the year, it stopped. My parents told me I was all better and didn’t need it anymore, that there really wasn’t anything wrong with me in the first place and I was fine. I believed them. I tried to kill myself for the first time 3 years later when I was 12. I cut myself over at a friends, they took me to the hospital and pretended to be my parents. Let me out after I was stable. I never told my family. Fast forward two years. I had been an all A student, then I got a C. My parents sat me down and talked to me only thinking that there was something wrong with me because my grades were suffering, they agreed to send my to therapy again. Went through 2 different antidepressants and a few months of weekly sessions until insurance didn’t cover anymorefor the year. Parents told me the same thing, and I believed them…again. I tried to OD on pills a week after my 15th birthday, an older friend decided to drop by the house and when he saw me, ran me to the hospital. Had them call the same friends parents from the first time. They let me out after I was stable. Again, I didn’t tell my parents.

Fast forward almost five years, a couple of months before my 20th birthday. I’m sitting in my room holding a razor to my wrist again, this time much more hesitant than the other two times. My girlfriend comes over and grabs it out of my hands, not without cutting both myself and her first. She takes me to the hospital to put me in the psych ward for a bit. There is no room for me and they transfer me to another hospital, she has to stay and says she will visit as soon as she can. I am in for a couple of days before I feel well enough to talk to anyone. I call my gf, then my friend, my brother and his wife, and finally my parents. My brother told me he couldn’t make it home for a week but he would be on the first plane back as soon as he could, which he did. I spend another couple of days in and then everyone comes to visit. My gf, friends, and their family I talk to first, it made me feel better. Before they leave I tell them not to talk to my parents. When asked why, I tell them about how they were never told about the other two times. They agree and all leave. My parents and sister come in next, we talk for a bit, then my mom asks me if I am going to go back to college that fall. I tell her no, she reaches into her bag and pulls out a bunch of paperwork for me to fill out for school, I sigh and before I reach for it my dad tells her to just stop. I will always remember that as one of my fondest memories of my dad. My mom doesn’t see what she did wrong, and before she leaves has the audacity to ask why everyone else was cold towards her…I still don’t think she understands why. Not long after she told me to break up with my gf, I didn’t. I was in the hospital for a couple more days before i just told the psychs i was acting out and I would seek help. I never did.

Its now been almost 5 years since then. My family still thinks I have only tried once. I still have yet to go back to therapy, even though now insurance covers something like 47 sessions a year. I am marrying that girl in June, my friend whose house I cut myself at is going to be my best man. I am in a gray point in my life, I have a lot of things to be happy about. Getting married to the woman I love and I have a great job working with kids with autism. On the other hand I recently had to move back in with my parents, my fiancee lost her job, and living back here has had a really negative impact on my mental health again. Even with that though, I think…I think I am getting better. 15 1/2 years, and I think I can finally see a way out. So, yeah…even though we have ups and downs, many more downs, there is a chance it gets better.