My Personal Battle (Part 2)

I was approximately 19 years old.  I was feeling so depressed.  I wanted to end my life.  I had my sister, Tara Kaitlee actually, drive me to the hospital and got myself admitted to the psych unit for evaluation.  The physician there diagnosed me with borderline personality disorder.  He prescribed me a whole slew of meds.  I was so zombified.  But I wasn't suicidal anymore.  I was just numb.  But it was better than the constant pain.  

A few months later I decided I was doing okay and stopped the meds.  I was working.  Life was stable.  Until it wasn't.  I'll never forget the day when I started cutting.  I worked in a market and was helping to stock.  The owner was hovering over me.  I was working with him putting notebooks out.  Opening box after box.  He told me to be careful.  And just like that, my hand slipped and I cut my left wrist.  It was just a tiny nip, but just like that I was addicted.  I suddenly couldn't feel emotional pain because I was focusing on that physical pain.  I didn't even realize how much emotional pain I was in until I no longer felt it.  It continued for years.

I admitted myself two more times.  I also got diagnosed with bipolar disorder.  Prescribed meds after meds after meds.  Here I am 20 years later, and finally just found a dosage of medication that stabilizes me.  I'm on three different medications for my depression and anxiety.  Two of the antidepressants are maxed out and I recently started a mood stabilizer.

Finally, life is stable.  Life is good.  I'm finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I'm finally starting to LIVE my life as opposed to simply existing in my life.

It may take a really long freaking time, but there IS hope.  Keep advocating for yourself.  I wish I had done it sooner.

Much love, 

Melanie