Depression: My Story

1 in 8 teens suffer from depression

Now I've never spoken about my life really. But being only eighteen you may all think that I've had it all easy, because that's what it's supposed to be when you're young; you should live your life, having fun, going out with your friends, getting drunk, etc. I am not like that and never have been.

One of the biggest things of my life is my depression. It changed me.

My story of depression started when I was fifteen years old, I came out as gay. Many people would say that it was a brave move coming out as having an attraction to boys when they go to an all boys school, I'm sure it was to some people, but to me it was all about being happy. I felt like I was in constant pain because I wasn't being myself, so when I let it out I felt like I could finally be myself and be happy at the same time.

At first the boys in my school appeared to be fine, but they weren't. It took them all three weeks before they started name calling me and it became very clear that they wanted to make my life hell. Every day, all day for months on end, they could call me Faggot, Bender, Freak, Gay Boy and those don't even seem bad, but for a fifteen year old who was like a new born baby and soaked up everything, it hurt. A lot.

After a few months of life torment, the verbal abuse became physical. I was never punched, kicked and assaulted, but they did start pushing me into walls, tripping me over when I walked past and threw food and cans of pop at me. There's only so much you can take before you explode, and when I did and told the teachers nothing was done about it because I didn't know the names of the boys. I could've pointed them out to them, but they wasn't interested.

At one point during this, I, myself had started to change.

Not on the outside, but inside. I was feeling hate towards myself, wanted plastic surgery to change everything; my nose mainly. But it wasn't just that. I started to snap at people, they could be nice to me and I'd want to punch them in the face. My concentration had suffered and I started to isolate myself from everyone. My life diary was wake up, go to school, come home and go to bed and I'd come out when everyone was in bed. I was a complete recluse, I didn't know who I was. 

Everything took a complete one-eighty when a boy in my year at school threatened to slit my throat open. He was known for taking drugs and for being very violent, so when I told my school and they did nothing, I felt like I was in no way safe there. I lost all respect for the teachers and I never felt safe there, in fact when I was doing my A Levels I was so scared to go in there that I sometimes faked I was ill and couldn't go.

The second time my depression came (mine comes in stages) it was when I came out as my alter-ego: FiFi La Femme (Now Azalea-Lee). People didn't understand it and if I am being honest, I don't think I truly understood it. I wasn't questioning my sexuality, I was also questioning for gender. I tell no lie when I say this, I did love wearing female clothes, makeup and wigs. I felt beautiful and confident. I had never felt that.

During this stage of depression my life really did change. I began to self-harm. I couldn't control the pain I was feeling, so taking a knife to my wrist made me feel in control. When they stopped working I went and started taking medication. I was already on them because of a ear infection, but two pills every four hours went to me taking, on average twenty - twenty five pills. I was faking I had a ear ache, toothache or stomach bug and my family believed me. However, I was never thinking of what I was doing to myself. (I'll tell that part later).

I'm not ashamed to admit that I have tried to take my own life. Your mind just goes around and round and then when you have a chance you take it. I wrapped a rope around my neck and started to suffocate myself. I did stop, I always did, but the option was always there. Always in the back of my mind.

When I went to the doctor, she diagnosed me with Severe Depression and I was made to go and have a blood test due to over-medicating. It turned out that I had damaged my liver. I was on the edge of a mental breakdown. I could've cried because I had did this to myself. I was to blame, no one but me.

Everything ended in December of 2013. It's September 2014 now and I still have urges to cut. I'm not happy with myself, but I am learning to control that. In fact I have started to think about applying for NYU to study Journalism. I already have a place in University for next year, but I want more out of life and moving to New York feels right for me. I'm also planning on getting a nose job when I turn twenty-one.

I've not over medicated since everything happened, I take them responsibly now, although the temptation is there. I am very proud that I have suffered with depression because it's made me into who I am today. I'm a strong minded person who wants better out of life. I'm also confident in knowing who I am and there is not one thing that people can say that will put me down.

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