I began cutting at 14. Emotions and voice were not acceptable in my home so I kept everything to myself. Cutting was the only way I knew to release and relieve myself of what I was feeling inside whether it was sadness, pain, hurt, anger.
From an early age, I learned my role - the pleaser. Sacrificing my own needs, wants, and desires, I became an expert at making others smile, laugh, happy, pleased, proud, etc, but never myself. I lived for others. There has always been an emotional hole that even at 43, I am unable to fill. I was always told I was selfish if I ever attempted to bring myself happiness.
After some traumatic events in my late twenties, I was diagnosed with PTSD anxiety, and depression yet only briefly tried counseling and medication. Then at 41, I was ready to finally follow through and take my life. It was the most helpless feeling I had ever experienced. I remember I couldn’t even get out of bed to watch my son play outside on his bike. I knew then I either had to take my own life or make a drastic change once and for all.
My decision to live came with a huge sacrifice- my family. Because they do not believe in mental illness and claim it is just selfishness, I have been shunned and disowned. Relationships are difficult for me as I do not trust anyone’s intentions. Each day I battle with feelings of worthlessness and confusion. Why can’t I be okay with being happy? I am alone. I take medication. I have gone through counseling. I am alive and each day I press on to the next.