My name is krysta, but you can call me tatiana. I’m 15 and I have severe depression and anxiety. I don’t really know how to put everything in the order that it happened so I guess I can just tell you bits of my story and they’ll fall together and make sense in the end.
I think my depression started in the 5th grade. I was living with my biological dad. And addict. To this day I am not sure what drugs he does. The ones I know for certain are pot and pain killers and possible meth. He was never in my life much. He left when I was baby. When I was in 1st grade he showed up and I went to live with him. During that time I was placed in mental institution many times. I guess I’ve always been fucked up, huh? Anyways, this time him and my mom had been back together for maybe a year before splitting up again and I was faced with the decision of choosing who to live with. My mom, who at the time I could always remember her yelling and getting angry. And while my dad was the same he promised to always be honey with me and try to control his temper a little bit better. He promises to be honest and how he chose to show me his hinesty was telling me he smoked pot. I was like ten. I didn’t know it was.a bade thing. I thought, no big deal, right? Well I lived with my father from January to February of the next year. During that time, while.i stayed jn the same district, keeping the same friends I recall moving A LOT. I also remember the first time I “self harmed” I only banged my head against a wall or my bed frame. I wouldn’t call it extreme or hardly even self harm but at the same time that’s exactly what it was. I was intentionally causing myself physical pain. Now normally a person first question would be “why?” And I’ll tell ya. My dad, the one I so eagerly looked up to, wasn’t as great as I thought. Drugs weren’t as harmless as they had once seemed to me. Common side Effie’s of pot, I.huess you could describe it as mellowness. But for some reason it only made my dad all the more angry all the time. Maybe it was his no polar but either was it wasn’t a healthy environment . My dad use to smoke it while I was in the room, like it was no big deal. Most people, among my fellow teenagers would respond to this with something like “dude that’s awesome” or “he must have been cool” but in reality it wasn’t either of those things. It was cruel of him to try and get me into that.
(This isn’t finished but I’m tired and I would like to go to bed)