Bear with me here, as I can already imagine how long this will be...  I’m new in the world of Reddit, but have been able to express a lot of emotions towards different things in the past week on here, so it’s time to finally let out all that I have been holding in. Thank you in advance to anyone who reads or decides to share a comment. 

I remember when it began. I lived such a normal happy childhood up until my parents got divorced. I was in the 4th grade and I walked in on my mom packing her bags, she told me she was going on vacation. I was too young to understand, I just thought I wasn’t getting invited somewhere. I didn’t understand why my 4th grade teacher sent me home with groceries one afternoon after I told her my dad wasn’t get out of bed anymore. I didn’t understand why my mom wasn’t coming home anymore. I remember meeting with the guidance counselor in 5th grade and telling her that my life didn’t feel the same as it did before. I wrote a letter to my parents asking them what was happening to us all. I didn’t understand, but I knew things were going wrong. 

I should add that my mom came back eventually. Her and I are very close now. I like to describe our relationship as just friends. I don’t know how to be affectionate with her because it is so foreign to me. It’s hard not to blame her.

The next few years were so hard for me. Middle school always is! I started getting bad really really fast. I never blamed my parents divorce for the reason I was so sad, I didn’t understand it but I entered a dark hole that I didn’t come out of. When I think back on all of these years, I separate them by all of the different situations that occurred where everyone failed me. The time in 6th grade when my new guidance counselor was alerted for how often I wore long sleeves. She made jokes about self harm. Told me all the different methods. I felt like she wanted me to take fucking notes. The time in 7th grade when my teacher was alerted of my self harming and I was called to the principal office. Where I was then surrounded by my teachers, principal, and SRO officer. They made me pull up my sleeves and my shirt. They just stared at me and sent me back to class. I thought this was it, this would be when someone helped me. Nobody called my parents. Nobody did anything. The time in 8th grade where I stupidly typed into my calculator that I wanted to die, I forgot to erase it when I left class. My mean, young math teacher showed the officer and I still remember the stares and chuckles I got from her and another teacher as I walked past them at lunch. I got called to the office and was sent home with a suicide referral. I only got to go to therapy twice before they didn’t want to pay for it anymore. I tried to come back following this time period and I was immediately rushed out of the school and they said I couldn’t come back yet. It was so embarrassing. Everyone stared. I lost all of my friends, everyone joked and said they just thought I died. My stepdad told me they weren’t gonna pay for therapy every time this happened. I was alone. 

I confided in a couple of teachers in high school. My guidance counselor called my mom one time during my freshman year and told her I needed to get help, she said she would look into it. She never brought it up to me. My band director emailed my mom one day my sophomore year and told her the same thing, I even logged into her email and flagged it so she would open it. She responded and assured her that she would get me help and thanked her for letting her know. She never brought it up to me. The next couple of years I became more comfortable with talking to her myself. I was begging for help at this point. She kept telling me she would look into it, that she had to check to see what the insurance would cover. I would send her places and she kept saying she would call. She never did. I gave up. 

I went off to college, things were great at first but I went back into my hole. Luckily, I could get therapy on my own this time. I thought things would get better. My new therapist was an angel and i felt so comfortable with her. I had so much hope. My first medication ended up being the worst one for me and it sent me down a really really bad spiral. Yay Prozac! My campus psychiatrist told me I had to seek treatment somewhere else, as i needed more help than what they could offer. Made sense. Soon after, my therapist sent me an email letting me know that she was referring me off campus as well. She couldn’t help me anymore. I was alone again. I started planning the end. I’ll spare the details, but a few weeks later I landed myself in a mental hospital and had to leave school for the rest of the year. (Rest of my life actually) The hospital was scary and trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was there was really really hard for me. But man, was I lucky with my experience. If I could redo those 11 days I would do so in a heartbeat. I want to write a book about it one day. It was the craziest experience of my life and I met the most amazing people. We were all jacked with lithium and seroquil. We planned our lives for when we’d get out, we were so positive. 

Reality slapped me in the face the day I returned home. As I soon realized that all of my friends were hours away, I was back in my parents home, and there was nothing going for me anymore except for therapy appointments. I ruined it all. It’s been really hard ever since. I think something broke deep down inside of me when all of this happened. The pain I felt before was nothing compared to what I have been feeling since I was released. It is now 2 years later. 

I don’t foresee this ever getting better. I have seen countless therapists and psychiatrists, received numerous medications and diagnoses, but I can never stick to any of it. I ghost my therapists, stop taking my medications. It’s all just so much, I didn’t ask to be this way. When I received my BPD diagnosis i had hope. New medication, new doctor, it all seemed promising, but I couldn’t keep up with it anymore. Nothing had worked before, why would it work now? I felt like I was becoming less present everyday. My body had a satisfying numbness to it. I didn’t want to do anything anymore.

So. That brings me to how I am feeling today. I feel like my entire life has been a cry for help. I tried so hard, I wanted the pain to end so desperately, but nobody would help me. Maybe if I would’ve gotten the help I needed then, I wouldn’t still be feeling this way. Maybe it was inevitable. I don’t know how to shake it. I don’t know how to get better. I don’t even know if I want to anymore. All I know is pain and sadness and there is comfort there. Happiness slips away from me within seconds, sadness doesn’t leave. I don’t even know how to explain it. I feel like I can’t catch a break. 2020 was hard but man 2021 is harder. Nothing goes right and I keep getting kicked back down by this shitty life. I have moments where I am distracted and carefree, but then something clicks and I’m back there. I don’t know how to deal with the deep discomfort that I feel when I’m not distracting myself for a single moment.

I am constantly mourning my past selves and grieving all of my wasted potential. I know I’m still young, but I don’t know how to move forward when my whole life has been one big ball of pain. I don’t know how to forget it, I don’t know how to detach myself from all that I know. I am scared for the future. I am scared to feel like this forever. I’m scared I won’t survive it. I don’t know how to get better anymore. 

So tell me, does it ever get easier? 



“I watch movies about suffering, and all I see are beautiful people suffering beautifully, and I’m watching them do it, which seems to give it all purpose. I wish I could suffer beautifully because then my pain could have meaning. Im not beautiful, and neither is my pain. I’m not suffering beautifully and nobody is there to watch me do it. It’s only there for me to see. Only there for me to feel. It seems meaningless, and lonely. It’s suffocating and helpless, it’s the ugliness of agony.” 

Thank you for listening, if you made it all the way down here. You listened more than anyone in my life ever has and for that I am thankful.