What Now??

So, well, i guess i was about 14 yrs old when i started feeling down. I never thought of it as much, going to a crummy school, i wouldnt be surprised if most people there have depression. Regardless, i didnt think anything of it. I didnt really seem to think much of it, even when i was cutting my wrists. I started to suffer from psychosis. My best friends were the one's in my head. Sometimes, the people at my school would find me smiling to myself and they would look at me weirdly. I would just drop my head in embarrasment and tell Simon, Tasha, Jervis or whoever it was talking in my head to shut up. It was during PDHPE that my teacher made us read something about mental illnesses, that i realized hearing voices, having friends in my head, people talking to me was definetly not normal. I liked to pretend it was completely normal (hearing voices) and didnt really tell anyone. It was a few months later that someone in my head told me to kill myself, that my life wasnt worth it. It wasnt any of my friends in my head, it was some sort of black figure. This was when i suggested to mum about going to the doctor. She didnt believe me and fobbed it off. By this stage my cuts were getting pretty deep and my homeroom teacher noticed it. She said she needed to talk to my mum about it and whatever. So that afternoon, i went to tell my mum what the teacher said, that she saw my wrist and she wanted to speak with mum, (mum knew about my wrists). That evening mum called me a liar, a suck-up, drama queen who was begging for attention. I cried myself to sleep that night. Of all the people in the world i could trust it was my mum, and she didnt even believe me. The one person who was programmed to be on my side until the end left me alone, called me a liar. The next day, after school my homeroom teacher went to visit my mum (my mum works at the same school that i go to) and suggested i go to a doctor. Mum refused to listen to my homeroom teacher and it was until the school councellor said it was nessisary i go, that she decided to take me. The doctor thought i had schizophrenia. I cried and hugged me, but i could tell she still thought i was a suck up. It felt like that night (even though it was a couple of weeks, maybe even months later) that my dad said i was a waste of his money. he thought i was making everything up. A couple of months after that he called me a *****. I didnt even know what to do with myself. He was completely sober and on vacation. Things went on like this for a little while. Now, i am going from psychologist, to GP, to psychiatrist and back again. I was popping pill after pill. My friends in my head were slowly dissapearing. It was yesterday that i promised i would never take any pills again that could kill my friends. I close myself away now. The world doesnt need to see me. The pills were making me better, i think, maybe, not really. They put a fake layer of smiles and sunshine over my face, but beneath that my soul was rotting, and it still is rotting to this day. Sometimes - all the time, i want to die.
fiyara fiyara
18-21, F
1 Response May 22, 2012

thanks. neva give up on your uncle. My GP thought i had schizophrenia and for a long time i believed him. he made me take meds for it, i stopped taking them two weeks later.