I guess this is kind of an intro to the blog and kind of my back story of who I am and why I am who I am.
Throughout my life, I've never been the happiest kid. I
remember in preschool, my weirdo friends and I would make playdoh
"tacos" and pretend it had blood in them and we were vampires. How I
remember that still? No idea. But I do. When I was in about sixth grade, my
depression got bad enough where I started cutting myself. My parents found out and I went to therapy
and was put on Zoloft. I hated it. I progressively got worse. I stopped therapy
because it seemed that most of the people were freaking crazy. I wasn't about
to take advice and help from someone who seemed worse off than me. I remember
telling my friends I was on it, hoping that they could help me with the issues
I was going through and all they said was, "Yeah those are sugar pills.
They don't do anything." But I knew for a fact that they did stuff because
I hated the way I felt on them. I stopped taking the Zoloft when I was about 15
or 16. I went through withdrawals for about a year or two. Not sure really. But
I remember that it wasn't so great and I was constantly moody. But my
depression seemed better than it was when I was younger.
When I was 15, I dated this kid in high school. I thought I
loved him and he seemed like a nice guy at first, but then I noticed he kept
getting more angry and angry. He hated change, and didn't really notice it but
if I told him about the changes, he would get mad, often to the point of him
hitting me. When we were hanging out one time watching the Exorcism of Emily
Rose, he tried to rape me. His mother walked in, looked shocked and simply
walked out, never saying anything about it again. I finally got the nerve to
break up with him while he and his family were on a trip to Virginia and I
never saw him again at school. I saw him once while returning a dead fish to
Petco and my mom was tempted to throw the dead fish at him. Ha!
When I went to college, things just got worse and worse. I
remember going to a friend's apartment during a power outage and all of the
sudden I felt a panic attack coming on. I couldn't be around those people I
didn't know at the friend's apartment. I couldn't be there. I walked back to my
dorm. I remember looking up into the sky and seeing the stars and thinking
about how gorgeous they were, but they really made me just feel more alone than
I was. I got back to my dorm and laid in the fetal position on my bed for a
while, sobbing. I finally got to the
point where I called my friend and he was able to calm me down. But from that
point on in college, things just got worse. I became friends with guys that
really seemed to be fantastic guys. They seemed to be really sweet. But one
forced himself upon me and another, who I really liked, raped me while watching
some movie with Robin Williams in it. He still to this day doesn't think that
he raped me. He continued texting me and when I said I didn't want to talk to
him, he said "It's not like I raped you." You'd think he would have
realized it was rape when I was crying and yelling. But apparently not.
Throughout the last couple years since the rape, things have
been getting worse and worse. When I'd wake up sobbing because of a nightmare
replaying the entire event, I didn't so much feel like going to class. These
happened regularly. At least twice a week. I tried as much as I could to keep
up with class but finally spring of 2011 it got to me to the point where I'd
have the nightmares and they felt so realistic that getting out of bed took too much effort. Going outside of my
apartment was terrifying because what if I saw him again? What if I saw someone
who looked like him? I failed three classes that quarter and lost financial
aid. I went back for fall quarter with a brand new outlook but despite the fact
that I tried to get good grades, my GPA was only 1.9, which got me kicked out
of school. I filed an appeal and stated the issues why my grades sucked:
depression, being raped, etc. They let me come back for one more quarter if I
am able to keep my GPA above 2.0 and continue counseling.
Despite the fact that the school gave me another chance, I
feel so unmotivated to do anything. Little things take out so much energy and
I'm not sleeping well. I'm taking multiple sleep aids to try to sleep at night
(Unisom, melatonin, diphenhydramine) and
if I sleep more than 4 hours, I consider myself lucky. I feel constantly worn
out and like nothing I do will make any difference anyway.
So here I am, trying. But the depression is making it a lot
harder than it needs to be.
I'm really hoping that writing about things will make things easier for me in the long run and help the healing process. I don't think there will be anyone reading this, but sometimes it's nice to get things out there and to just talk about it without really talking about it.
