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I was living the perfect life. I wasn't rich or spoiled or mega-popular or anything like that. I was just happy. Soooo happy, because nothing bad had ever happened to me. I didn't understand depression. Maybe I was too young to comprehend it, or maybe I thought it wasn't as bad as it sounded. Maybe, just maybe, I didn't think it existed.
I was so wrong.
You see, I was living the perfect life, until 5th grade. Around that time, I somehow managed to get myself addicted porn. Don't ask me how, don't ask me why. It kind of just....happened. I was only 10 at the time, and I'd also been a Christian for most of my life. I kept it a secret from everyone. Around the same time as my porn addiction started, I started getting depressed. School work was getting tougher, cliques were forming that I wasn't included in, and keeping the porn a secret was just killing me. I felt dirty about it, and misunderstood. Slowly I lost friend after friend, until I felt completely alone.
Now in sixth grade, I had a friend name Jeremy. Well, not a friend--a BEST friend! We were tight. He could draw so well, and he could peel an orange in five seconds flat. He was really the only person I could hang out with. He even had a crush on me. I finally felt accepted. Until May 7th, 2005. Jeremy died of an asthma attack. It was unexpected, it was shocking, it hurt. I was alone yet again, this time with twice as much grief on my shoulders.
In 7th grade, (my porn addiction had ended by now) I was foreceably touched by an older man on my way to the library. I only really comprehended what he'd done to me when I got into 8th grade, and by that time I was being molested again, by a boy my age. The molestation was honestly the worst thing that EVER happened to me. People called me a liar, they laughed when I flinched at their touch, they completely ignored what had happened to me. Even after I reported the boy to the school authorities, he still tried to touch me in the hallways. I was living in constant fear. I couldn't sleep. And when I did manage to catch a wink, I would always have nightmares. They were disturbing and graphic. But somehow I felt safer in my nightmares than in reality. I liked being depressed.
The sexual abuse is what triggered the self-abuse. Somehow, being molested led to me hating my own body. So I starved myself. I was constantly drained of energy and exhausted from the hunger. I didn't do it just to lose weight. It was a form of self-harm. I enjoyed the pain. Soon enough, this obsession with pain made me want to cut myself. I tried everything I could to resist. I drew on my arm, I stopped biting my nails just so I could scratch myself whenever I felt the urge. But eventually I lost it. I cut myself. The blood and the pain and the relief of finally giving in were overwhelming. I became addicted.
With all these problems piling up.... the remnants of my former porn addiction, the death of my best friend, the sexual abuse, the backstabbing friends, my trust issues, my anorexia, my cutting issue.... I nearly became suicidal. Now I'm not sure if wanting to die is different from wanting to kill yourself. But I remember so clearly. Lying in bed one night, unable to sleep, I cried my hardest and begged God to kill me. Just kill me. He never did. And I became angry with him.
But over the summer before high school, I took a good look at my life. I asked myself, is it really worth it to be so depressed? I prayed an honest prayer for God to just take my depression away, because I was finally sick of it. And he made me happy. I met two amazing people who I could talk to anything about. And ever since then, I haven't been depressed for even a second.
I mean, I still deal with a lot of my addictions, but that's just force of habit, not out of depression. I've come to realize that you really can't function when you're depressed. You have to keep secrets, you can't focus, you can't eat or sleep like you should. It's just not worth the energy. It's not worth the hurt.
Now, ending my story, I am NOT perfect in happiness, nor was I content with depression. But it's really up to you. Happiness is a conscious effort. It's easy to be depressed, but is it really worth it? You have to force yourself to focus on the good things sometimes. It may be hard now, but it is so worth it in the end, I promise you.
YOU ARE NOT ALONE.
-- CJ, New York
6:28 AM
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