By Jaserno 42 Comments
As To Write Love On Her Arms encourage, to speak out is one of the most proactive things for recovery. An active way of writing down life stories, afflictions and addiction is a way of helping each individual. This, this is my story.
I'm 19 years old, have the world at my feet and a lot to live for. I have been depressed since I was about 15 years old except I chose not to accept it for what it was and just hid the self harm and anger that I have built up inside. Heavy hearts like heavy clouds in the sky, are best relieved by a little letting of water; I wish this was the case with me. I cannot cry, I cannot feel emotion, the only thing that breaks through is anger. At 15 my Grandad died of cancer, this trauma destroyed me. From that moment I couldn't cry. I didn't cry at his funeral. The following year my cousin overdosed because his girlfriend left him. I remember his funeral, and scattering his ashes, I remember it so well. For days it rained constantly. But yet, I couldn't cry. He left two beautiful daughters behind, he taught me to ride a bike out the back of his Mum's. He was so good and inspirational for those around him. Yet he took his life. I am not angry at him, I know it's the easy way out and I have contemplated and attempted to take mine many times before.
Hope is real, help is real; my next tattoo written down my left arm to encourage me not to cut, ink is the only way I can express my pain, they make me feel alive. Well, back to my hardship. When I was 16 I met a girl, we became really good friends and the ensuing year I attempted to gain her trust and have a relationship with her. Hindsight is a horrible thing. Looking back, I wish I never met her, I wish I wouldn't remember her name, I wish I didn't know the intricate details of her; the colour of her eyes, her perfume, the things she enjoyed and the times we had. Good and bad. She carried me through a lot, she did not know I was depressed, even then, it has not been something I've been able to speak about until just recently. The last six months of my life has really taken it out of me.
I've been cutting and attempting suicide as long as I can remember, the first thing I always look back on is listening to Early Sunsets Over Monroeville by My Chemical Romance whilst cutting. Something about that song gives me the urge and want to cut. To harm myself and those around me. I think my anger stems from my elder sister attempting suicide and allegations of my Dad raping her, which were never true. She was just a teenager lashing out at the world, then going into foster care and still lashing out. She scarred every member of my family, but I love her. She is my family, unconditional love.
"We all wake to the human condition. We wake to mystery and beauty but also to tragedy and loss. Millions of people live with problems of pain." I am not trying to claim that I am any different to anyone else but as you encourage, your story is important, part of a bigger story, a story of hope and help. Rescue is possible. The girl I met, Yazmin, she carried me, she made me feel alive, she made me happy but yet angered me somehow. All relationships should be equal. Friendships should be equal. Life is about caring, loving, sharing and happiness. She carried me through my darkest hours and yet I did not let on that I was suffering more than she was aware. I unconditionally loved her, she tried to change me and as naive as I was, I accepted. She stopped me being who I wanted to be, piercings, tattoos, always something she did not want me to do. Said "You'd look stupid and they wouldn't suit you". Following my Grandad's death and me and Yazmin starting a relationship, I received a large inheritance, looking back, what was she interested in? It definitely was not my looks nor my personality that attracted her, we were too incompatible, yet I changed for her, to someone she could love. The funny word that it is, thrown around all too often, you don't realise the feeling until you have lost it, as Jimmy Eat World say, and I've been losing plenty since.
Indeed, I loved her, partly, I think I still do. But there is hope for my future and I do not want her to be a part of it. "I chronicled the days she made me want to live". She was my everything. She stopped me cutting, was unaware that I had done it. I spent my entire inheritance on her and she loved me for it. So she said. But yet there was still the one-sidedness in our relationship. I received no affection when I needed it, she always seemed distant and reserved. Like she wanted someone else. But I refused to believe it, she told me I was "paranoid and jealous of her having close friends". Close friends, close friends are not those that you cheat with for 18 months whilst you tell your boyfriend he is paranoid and jealous. Like I said, hindsight is a horrible thing.
Friends of mine always told me that she was no good for me and questioned why I stayed with her, she was bad news.
I always made more effort than she had ever wanted to commit, she has left me scarred, bitter, twisted, angry and distrusting.
Eight weeks ago I visited her at her university, she was reserved, didn't want me to touch her, didn't want to speak to me or hug me at all. I knew something bigger was going on, but once again I got the "you're jealous and paranoid" treatment. I returned to my university, confused and upset, more depressed than I could deal with. It was then I began to isolate myself from the world, avoid people at all costs because I knew the ensuing storm was going to destroy me again, like walking through Hell or the hangover when you've drank too much the night before.
A week later, exactly, her friend Kat visited her. As I had learned previously, something was wrong. I contacted Kat asking what was wrong with Yazmin and I got a swift yet abrupt reply "you will learn in time, it is not my place to say". So, the anger took over, on the Sunday night before her 'friend' Kat was going to leave I told Yazmin that "she would miss Kat more than she had ever me". "Do you know what, fuck this, I don't want to be with you anymore. End of" - What a delicately put reply to someone, in a text. The person that just spent over £25,000 of his own money and three years of his life trying to be the best person he could. To provide for her mentally and emotionally at the detriment of myself for three long years. That takes its toll on a character. I seem to be the only character in my story with an unhappy ending. Take this as a suicide note if you will. My memoirs for the last five years, my hopes, my fears, my help and my love; all in one email to an organisation that has helped countless numbers of people through worse circumstances and situations than mine.
A life of antidepressants, counselling and mental asylums is what I have to look forward to. At least that is what I thought. After Yazmin dumped me like I was useless and unworthy I started to cut again. I swiftly found out that I had been cheated on for 18 months of the three year relationship that we had. I was used like a nobody, I feel ashamed that I spent so long chasing her and being good to her. My Grandad would frown if he knew that I had spent his lifelong and hard earned money on attempting to make one girl happy. We had good times, but they are undermined because she never wanted me, never felt the same as I did, it was all an act to take me for everything I had and drain me.
I went to throw myself from a bridge into oncoming traffic, tried to drown myself, bleed myself dry, my bestfriend has always stopped me. It was at that point that I realised I needed to reach out for help. I started seeing counsellors, now on antidepressants and a form of valium. But my story does not end there. Last night (Friday, 19th November) I overdosed, cut and punched walls until my hands bled. My housemates heard the commotion and swiftly called an ambulance, I spent the night in accident and emergency under constant observation by doctors and having frequent blood tests. I felt that I'd had enough and I wanted out. I don't want to live a life that is as disappointing to those around me and as disappointing I am to myself.
Last night was a wake up call for me, a wake up call to take control and to stop the bleeding. I know that rescue is possible, and hope is real. I am receiving the help that I need and I have quit drinking. I tend to get angry and upset when I drink and everything that is afflicting me comes out.
Two weeks ago, I met a beautiful young lady whom is falling for me faster than the freefall speed of a person skydiving - something like 350 miles per hour. I became reliant on Yazmin, I am still getting over calling her my 'ex'. All I feel for her is a burning hatred and I fear how I will feel and react when I next see her. I know that if she contacts me tomorrow, I will try my hardest to not reply and to ignore her, but I don't think I will be able to resist the temptation of hearing her voice or seeing her face. She took hold of me, dug her claws in, ripped out my heart and left me to die. I keep thinking "maybe suicide is what she wants me to do, that she wants to be rid of me". Well, after how she treated me, used me, and ditched me I would not be surprised if that is the case.
Back to the girl that I have recently met, her name is Ashleigh, she is beautiful, funny, intelligent (more than me), and all round wonderful; but I cannot become reliant upon another girl for my own sanity and happiness. I need to deal with my own problems before I accept responsibility and commitment.
I scared a lot of people last night, laying in that hospital bed and being watched for several hours, not being allowed to sleep in case the pills put me into a coma is not the best way to spend a Friday night. But at the time I couldn't think of anything better. It was a wake up call, a wake up call to take control of my life again and to heal my pain. Ashleigh is being a big help for this, I have decided to stop taking my medication so that I can feel again. I know that it is going to be hard but I want to see what the future between me and Ashleigh contains, I don't want to feel like my emotions are sitting on the sidelines whilst I idly let her slip away from me whilst waiting for me to be 'normal' again. Someone once told me "it is not possible to change the beginning, but it is possible to write a new end". And that is what I want to do, myself, not medication. I'm a 19 year old university student, have some wonderful friends, a loving and caring family. And I have Ashleigh, she is what I need to feel alive, she keeps my feet on the ground in my darkest days, like Yazmin did, but me and Yazmin never seemed to work from the start. Something about Ashleigh makes me want to fall in love all over again and to never let go. She makes me happy, what I perceive as happy, my medication does not like emotion. Not all stories have a happy ending, I want my story to, and I want it to contain Ashleigh.
The advice that I can give anyone is to never give up, I dodged a bullet and my friends saved my life (once again). Rescue is possible, hope, help, love and kindness is possible. The world is still beautiful, even in the gloomiest days the sun still shines. "Everyday I wake I tell myself a harmless lie, the whole wide world is mine". Reach out for support and remember that you are loved, even if it doesn't seem that way in the hardest of times. Every moment of life is something not to be taken for granted, do not allow life to destroy your character, in your story. Your story is important. To Write Love On Her Arms. Or in my case, his arms.