my advice now – need advice?

Dear Jasmine,

I’m a senior in high school this year. To simply say that I’m just stressed wouldn’t even come close. My life has changed in so many ways in such a short time. I have changed too.

At the beginning of the current school year, I was diagnosed with depression. When I was diagnosed, my symptoms were, extreme lack of energy, apathy, worthlessness, withdrawing from my friends and family, and sitting alone in the dark for hours at a time.

But that was only the beginning. The doctor put me on Zoloft to start with. But everyday was getting worse. They started me out on 25 milligrams and eventually got me up to 300 milligrams. But my depression was swallowing me faster than my medication could pull me out.

It wasn’t until I hit rock bottom that I fully understood my situation.
I came home from school one day and I just couldn’t take the feelings inside me anymore. I had to get them out. So I walked into the kitchen to get the scissors. I couldn’t get a knife because my mother would have thought it to be suspicious.

I took the scissors to my room and before I knew it, I had slits all over my arm. It wasn’t bleeding that badly, though. It stung like fire. But I’d take fire over the emotional pain I was feeling before. I’m pretty sure this is when I actually hit the bottom. I didn’t realize it until the next day of school. I don’t even remember what it was that set me off. But I got a fork, went to the restroom, and cut myself (or scraped because the fork wasn’t sharp and we don’t have knives). I did it again in my next class.

One of my friends figured it out but wouldn’t have said anything to anyone. I’m not the cutter type. I’m on the dance team. I’ve got plenty of friends. No one even knew that I had something to be unhappy about. This went on for a month or two longer. I went from scissors and forks to knives and blades. I became addicted to it.

I couldn’t make myself quit. I didn’t even want to quit. One day in January, one of my ”friends” decided to go to my house while I was gone. I’m still not sure which of the people I know did it, but I know it was one of them. Anyway, this friend told my mother everything.

I got home that night and she made me sit and talk to her. I didn’t want to talk to her. I’ve never wanted to talk to her. I’ll be the first to admit that I have no emotional attachment to her. I hate her. So we talked.

She told me how stupid I was and so forth. I blow her off as usual. She gets angry and the very next morning, I have an appointment at a mental health facility. We talked. I told them everything. (Cutting, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempts, suicide plans, even some homicidal thoughts) They admitted me to in-patient care because I was “a threat to [myself] and others”.

That was the worst week in my life. I don’t understand how places like that help anyone. They took me out of one crappy situation and put me in another one. It was pointless. I was powerless, treated like an animal, followed a strict routine. None of those things are things that I even kind of enjoy.

I learned so much about myself there. I’d love to start in with the happy ending crap, but life doesn’t work that way. While I was there, I learned (among others) two things: (1) I am a bisexual (2) I cannot trust any living, breathing thing on this planet. I am above all else, alone.

They switched my medicines. They tried everything to “fix” me. Nothing worked. I finally got to the point that I started to lie about how I felt just so I could get out. That’s all it took. They ate up every word. It only took 24 hours for them to take it in and let me out.

Now I’m out. I’ll never go back again. Not if its court ordered. I refuse. I’ve stopped taking my meds and I’m just as crappy as ever. Suicide is still a daily struggle. I have to go back to the shrink and tell him that I feel just fine when I don’t for fear of going back there.

I know that I am only hurting myself, but I don’t know what else to do. Going back to that place is not an option. And since it isn’t, I can’t tell him how I feel. And since I can’t do that, I’ll never have the right medications. I personally think that they should do electro-convulsive shock therapy. It is really the only option left. But for now, I just paint of a pretty smile and pretend like I’m okay.

-Morbid and Broken
C. Grulkey
Alma, AR

Dear C,

The first time I am glad to hear is that you realize that you do have a problem and you want to deal with it. It sounds like your still underage so your parents still have the power over you to put you back in the mental institution. I do think you need help, but it sound like that wasn’t the best option for you. What you said striked me. You said you didn’t get to do anything you liked.

You must be going through a lot right now and because your suppressing your feelings, that will just make things even worse for you. You cannot just go on pretending everything is okay. You need to start finding the things that you do enjoy and focus on those things. You said that you hate that place because you didn’t do anything you like. Well now you are out. You have the chance to do what you do like. And don’t say you like cutting yourself, because you know you don’t. You only do it because you think that is the only option you have to deal with yourself.

All you are really doing is reminding yourself with the scars. Not only do you have to deal with all this crap in your life, you have all these scars all over your body. If you think that electro-convulsive shock therapy is something you need, I would suggest that you tell them you want to try it to see if it would help you. That way you won’t have to reveal that you have been hiding the truth from them.

However, I don’t encourage you to keep lying. I encourage you to find a way to express yourself truthfully and not hold back. The door is always open here for you to write, but I would also encourage you to find someone you can trust to help you through this time. Don’t face this alone.

Always here,
Jasmine