	I can remember as far back as 10 years old when I was in fifth grade with my teacher Ms. C. One day I turned to my friend and I asked if he dared me to cut my arm with the scissors I had in my hand. He said "yes". I tore my arm up and this kid went home and told his mom. 

	This became a public issue. I remember the white wrap on my arm from my wrist to my elbow in the same moment that my teacher Ms. C asked to see it, and asked me why I did it. No one understood why I did that. When they asked me I told them angrily " I don't know". To this day I don't know what prompted me to do this or how I knew about about this method of self harm.  I honestly believe that I didn't know that that was inappropriate behavior. Part of me probably knew I couldn't do it in front of anyone but my younger self tried it out in front of my friend to make sure. 

	 From 10-14 I engaged in privately self harming this way. 14 is around the age when I knew that if I took enough pills from the pills in grandpas cabinet that that might do the trick.  I took the bottle of valium. Not knowing then that you get high from them. I didn't even know what it felt like to get high, yet. I took 16 and I went to school. Having no fear as I swallowed each one. Only to have panic set in once I was in school for a few hours. I called 911 and asked if I took a lot of pills if it could kill me. 

	As I write this I am doing my best to keep my mind specifically on what I was thinking when I was making these decisions and following through with some potentially lethal actions.  Instead of what I was feeling and possibly going through. I write this as well for the concern I keep in the back of my mind for how many attempts I have made, and how little fear I had until I realized what I had done could be permanent.  This understanding has grown as I have gotten older and realized the impermanence of things.

	At 15 I stole $20 from the cash till of my first job employed by extended family. I confessed to my mom and she told me I had to return the money. I locked myself in my room and held sharp scissors to my wrist and sliced as hard as I could. Immediately saw blood squirt and it was terrifying. It was so bad and I ran out to my mom. I traumatized us both that day. 

	This makes the 3rd psychiatric hospital visit in 1 year. Each time refusing to be on medication. I remember anytime that I was in trouble or did something bad I truly believed that I would be better of dead and truly would rather be dead than experience any possible change from an outcome that I created. Once making an attempt it made it easier to do them again. 

	I remember sitting in my room and I would tear myself down talk down to myself to the point that I would say I want to die. 

	I wasn't only strange in this way.

	I always have been deeply romantically interested in people, but not many people. I feel it when I first look at them. It is rare but when it happens I feel myself want to fully give myself over to that person and love them with everything I have. People who are usually not lovers in that way. In high school I switched classes to be in the same class as the person I thought I was in love with.

	When she wasn't there I would leave school and try and find where she was. I would always get caught and get in trouble with my parents and the school. One night I went trying to find a ride at 15 in the middle of the night to go to the hotel she was at. I was pulled over by the police and taken home and was unable to tell my parents this and just let them believe I was trying to run away. 

	All of this is before graduation and before I found weed. The first thing to make me feel comfortable. And alcohol. Drugs were the first thing that made me feel fully alive and comfortable. I stopped having any attempts after I learned how to use drugs and alcohol where I could experience an affect.

	Until I was 18 and I was on pills and moonshine and I was at a friends house and vaguely remember trying to harm myself in front of  them. That was the last time I put a knife to my skin. For  another year I was constantly intoxicated on something. I had a group of friends that I cared a lot about I pretty much didn't talk to or see my family. 

	I remember trying to crash my cars into trees but not being able to do it fast enough. Until I was high on air duster while driving and almost died. This time it really almost happened. I was completely gone.  The state that I came back to was tragic. I had broken my neck and cracked my skull. 

	At this point I started to realize that death is not something I can play around with. Because when I do and I come back and there are consequences. To my self esteem, body, and life. Also each time I play around with it I get less lucky. 

	I continued using drugs while in a neck brace and each month I would go to the ward. I now experienced drug induced psychosis for the first time. I honestly am not sure how I came back from certain episodes. 

	6 months later I moved across the country. 4 months after that I got into a meth addiction that took 8 months to get out of. With this addiction I experienced psychosis very quickly and faster than the people I was using meth with. 

	4 months after moving back across the country again and after 4 hospital visits in two months I get into my first and only rehab I have ever been in. Rehab saved my life. I entered rehab after my 21st birthday. 

	Throughout this journey I have experienced great joy, but I have always experienced everything greatly. A darkness entered my mind very young and it is not until I am 24 years old that I understand that I have a mental illness. That this illness can be treated. 

	For all the times I glorified death and would pray for illness to fall upon me. I am doing my best to live today. To live for all of the times that I could have died. One minute I was living in reality and in the next I was consumed with thoughts and quick actions with little thought. Today I try to think more and to share my thoughts to others out loud.  I also am open to medication today and this is a new journey for me, but with medication I find I can think long-term and maintain my sobriety better. 

	I post this not to trigger anyone but hopefully to reach someone who has had a difficult journey with mental health to know that you are not alone in this and that it does get better. I have bipolar disorder but I am not my illness. I am a son, brother, friend, and student.