It seems like I always come back

In early 2009 I started dealing with severe recurrent depression, even though I was undiagnosed at the time.  I’m sure many of you know what that feels like.  I felt like my life had no point, none of my classes were interesting, I didn’t want to hang out with my friends, and I just hated everything and everyone, especially myself.  All of these emotions just kept building up until I couldn’t deal with it anymore.  In September of that year I tried to overdose on sleeping pills.  I calculated what the lethal dose for someone my size would be, and took that plus a few extra just to be sure.  Waking up the next morning was the worst feeling of my life.  I had work, and a psychiatrist appointment (who had no idea anything was wrong with me, my parents just insisted I go see him and talk every week).  I decided to try something a little more certain:  opening my carotid artery.

I have no idea what prompted my actions that night, but I ended up posting on 4chan about my decision, my depression, whatever.  Some of them seemed to care, and I had spent a lot of time there over the prior year, so I figured might as well have my last moments with them.  I posted my email accounts, my Facebook account information, everything.  It wasn’t as if I would need it anymore.  Why not let them have some fun?

Soon after that, police showed up at my door.  Apparently someone from 4chan had looked up my information, called the cops and told them about what I was doing.  So I was handcuffed, put in the back of a cop car, and taken to a nearby psychiatric hospital where I was treated for 22 days, diagnosed, and put on an anti-depressant (Celexa, an SSRI).  I won’t say my stay at the psych ward was pleasant, but it was certainly interesting.  Most kids (I was 16 at the time, so was in the under-18 section) stayed for 6-10 days.   I spent the first 10 days with the label “Close Observation Case,” meaning I had to have an orderly within 10 feet of me 24/7.

Anyways, long story short, I got “better” and was released from the psych ward.  My return to school and normal life went pretty well, I remade friends, and life was better.  I finished high school and went to college.  Recently, though, my depression has come back.  It’s like my anti-depressants stopped working (or they gave up on me like so many other people have).  The haze of depression has returned to my life, and even though I’ve done years of therapy by this point, none of it seems to matter.

I’m back on the edge, and I’m back to this site.