My Other Story

I know its hard to see, but yes, that's what you think it is. And no, I am not suicidal.

I never shared this story before. Never publicly. Never with anyone besides close friends. But I feel it's time. Time to get it out of my mind. Time to open myself up so I don't have to hide the struggle I'm going through anymore.

I'm not gona be one of those people who said, I saw this coming. We all saw this coming. Because I didn't. I mean, when I look back on it now I guess I can say "hey yeah thats not right, maybe this is a sign of things to come". But I didn't pay attention I was a kid. And my mom never paid attention because I was a heart kid, and heart kids are more emotional then 'normal' kids.

I remember one moment as a child, thinking OMG I am ugly. And I remember wondering if my dad loved me. But I didn't think anything of it. Until now. Here is my story. The UNTOLD story. Not my CHD story no, my Bipolar story.

I think I was 14. I remember being in 7 and 8th grade. I remember thats when I began getting depressed. When I began to really feel ugly. But then 9th grade started. I finally made a really good friend. We met in spanish class and we clicked instantly. The first time we hung out, we snorted some white stuff and then went and TPed a church. Thats when it began.

Drinking, smoking and huffing. Thats all it was for a short time. A very short time. Getting high and music, it was a relaxing life for a bit. But then that nagging feeling came back. That you arn't pretty. You arn't loved little voice in the back of my head. I needed an escape. I needed out. Thats when I began to stop eating. For a while, that was enough. All I did all day was plan my food intake, weigh, count calories and make weight goals. I was happy when I lost my first 5 pounds. But then it got harder to lose weight.

What I didn't realize was I was battling an eating disorder. I thought I was fat, I thought it was normal for me to want to lose weight. When people told me I was to skinny and they wanted to buy me a cheeseburger I got pissed. I thought they where laughing at the fatty. So I began working harder. Not only did I limit my eating I began making myself throw up what I actually did eat.

I slowly lost weight but it wasn't fast enough. My mom was starting to wonder a bit. Asking me if everything was okay. Everyone at school asked me how much weight I lost. Only 10 pounds, geeze not a big deal. I was so tired, I told my gym teacher I didn't feel good and needed to sit out. She looked at me and ask if I had been eating. I told her yes. She looked me in the eye and said "YOUR LYING".

It got even harder. My mom was making me eat in front of her, my teachers kept talking to me about me eating and all the other kids where staring. I felt fat, ugly, and pissed. Thats when It got to its worst. Thats when I pulled out the razor blade. I remember exactly how I tried cutting. It was after watching an episode of degrassi: the next generation. I remember watching that episode. I remember seeing Ellie, I could tell she felt like I was feeling. But I didn't understand how cutting helped her. I thought she was a crazy lunatic. I just couldn't see it. So I tried it.

Well my eyes where opened. The pain, the relief that came with the pain and blood. I understood. I got it. And thats when it go bad. I cut so much I went through so many band aids. About a box a day. I cut and let it bleed for a bit, but then put a band aid over it. I hated covering it up but I was on blood thinners. And If I didn't cover it up the blood would seep through my sure and my mom would be able to see. I began wearing long sleaves all the time. I went through all the band aids in the house so I had to use toilet paper and tape. I stole my moms box cutter. I spent an hour in the bath cracking open a despoisable razor to cut with. I intentionally bought eye liner sharpeners. Unscrew those and the blade came right off. It worked perfectly. And the razor was small enough I could carry it around we with at all times.

Because it came to the point where I needed to make sure it was with me. I needed to make sure I could cut whenever I needed to cut.

I remember showing my mom, the first time I cut. I remember we where sitting on my bed crying, talking about the eating and I showed her the cut. She asked me if I was trying to kill myself. Honestly, no I wasn't. I've never serisouly thought of killing myself.

After that talk my mom watched me closely but I got smarter. I found ways to hide the cuts and to get out of eating or getting rid of food.

I remember one time me and my mom watched the degrassi cutting episode together once and she looked at me and asked, should I check your arms? I told her no. Thats when she knew. So thats when I began cutting my legs. The whole time, losing weight along the way.

Eventually the school got involved and kids found out about the cutting. I begged and begged them to not tell her. But they did. I remember my brother coming into my room and going "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" I think he was scared. He bagan to cry. And then I cried. I showed him my legs and we just cried.

Thats when my mom got pissed and began searching my shit and took all my razor blades. The ones she could find anyways. She began to weigh me every morning. Told me as long as I was 100 lbs or m0re then she wouldn't push it to much. Well I knew I wouldn't weigh that one morning so I put extra clothes on. I still only weighed 95. Thats when she got mad. Thats when the watching bacame 24/7. Thats when I finally told her "fine Ill go to BHC" Just to get her to leave me alone. BHC is behavorial health center.

What she didn't know was how bad I had gotten. She didn't know about the extra clothes. She didn't know that I had began cutting my feet, hoping to cut the veins. I wanted the blood.

I went to BHC and was watched closely. I wasn't allowed to go to the bathroom after I ate. I had conselling. After a week, a horrible horrible week my mom took me home. But that didn't stop me. I still cut and hid it, I still worked very hard to lose weight. And cried when my weight went up by a .5 I went to counslers weekly. Thats when I was diagnosed with bipolar. I had 2 different conselers. One kicked me out after he saw I was still cutting and wouldn't talk about it. The other one, IDK why I stopped seeing him but I did.

But I was still cutting and still not eating. I'm not really sure how I stopped myself. But its been about 2 years since I've last cut myself, or at least cut myself to make myself bleed. I still scratch myself. And if I had a razor blade, which I try to not let myself near, I know Ill do some damage. Draw blood and make another pretty little scar. I look at myself daily and go "5 lbs and you'll be good"