Hey you amazing person, if you’re reading my
story here’s something you have to remember; you’re not alone. You’ll never be alone. There might be parts of my story that are
quite upsetting, but so far the ending is quite happy. Just so you know me a bit better my name is
Kay and I’m from Scotland (freedom!).
My story starts when I was 11. A family member who I was very close to
passed away. Although this was something
I had thought I’d gotten over it’s something that stayed with me for years and
just fuelled some of the negative emotions I felt, but we’ll take this one step
at a time.
Less than a year after this a family member
molested my sister which led to a huge break up in the family. Little 12 year old me was terrified that I
had lost someone else, that someone had been murdered. There were police in my house, my family
members were over and I remember just making note of who was where whilst the
police spoke to my sister. Thankfully
she had spoken out on the same day as it happened so she could get the help she
needed, but the particular family member who had molested her was free to go
because there was apparently ‘not enough evidence’. On top
of all this I was getting bullied because of the way I looked and just for
stupid little things. Although I was
upset at this point I don’t think I was completely depressed, but I did feel
isolated as all of my ‘friends’ turned their backs on me. They started bullying me too and I couldn’t
I’d gotten the courage to finally speak up in
my first year of high school, though there was still some comments made from
the person in particular but these comments didn’t seem to bother me
anymore. I didn’t trust anyone anymore
though. I refused to open up to anyone,
there was no point I thought, they’d stab me in the back eventually or end up
dying and leaving me alone.
It was around this time I had my first
depressive episode. There were so many
days where I would lie on the bathroom floor just crying. I’d cover up both of the mirrors and put the
blind down and just cry in the dark. I
never got caught, and though most of the time I didn’t want to be there were
just days when my own voice in my head kept saying ‘they know, they just don’t
care’. My own worst enemy was really
myself, and it was slowly consuming every waking moment. There weren’t any days were I felt good. I was either numb at best and absolutely
devastated and depressed at worst. Every
day I would always run some water in the sink and just wait. I’m not a religious person, my whole family
are atheists, but there were times when I’d pray in front of this sink and just
beg for a sign, for anything that there was something out there that wanted me
to keep going on. Nothing made me feel
better, there were no signs that I could see and one day I went through, ran
water in the sink and I just wanted to end it there, I held my breath for as
long as I could under the water and I felt my lungs starting to burn and I
stopped. I didn’t want to put my family
through any more pain than they’d already been through. Even after that there were days when I would
just curl up on the bathroom floor and just sob my heart out. The things I said to myself were just
horrible, I’m not going to repeat them here, but they were things that no one
should ever hear said to them, especially if it is in your own head.
I spoke to my family about how I hated myself
one day when I was 14 and they didn’t believe me. I was told it was just teenage hormones and
that it would be over in a few weeks. My
family aren’t bad people, they just didn’t know the extent of the hateful
emotions I had towards myself.
I was 15 years old when I self-harmed for the
first time. It started off as such a
small thing, I would just nip myself but it kept getting worse and worse, I
ended up burning myself for a little while and scratching my arms with
sharpened pen lids, it developed into an addiction and it seemed to help so
much, for those few moments I’d only need to focus on the pain and nothing else
mattered. I knew it wasn’t healthy, but
I didn’t class it as self-harm at that point.
Eventually I convinced my mum to take me to
the doctors so I could get into counselling to help me. I had never told anyone but one of my closest
friends that I self-harm. I remember
that she had a look of disgust on her face when I told her. There are really just some things you never
forget about people.
Anyways, I went through counselling, I told
the woman that I had self-harmed but I’d never told anyone I had tried to
commit suicide, and I didn’t want to say anything to this woman especially. I wasn’t going to do it again so there wasn’t
any need for her to know.
To be honest with you, for me the counselling
never really worked. I felt better for a
few hours, but I still felt isolated. My
one friend knew what was going on, and all I can remember her saying is ‘can
you not at least pretend to be happy?’
Looking back now I’m surprised I didn’t just break down in tears right
in the middle of the school hall. And
honestly my family didn’t help too much either.
My mum has undiagnosed OCD and although she cares a lot for us she’d
often snap and scream at us and our dad just because there was a bit of mess. There are times when she’d say that she
should just kill herself and it scared me.
What if I came home and she’d killed herself? I still don’t have the best relationship with
my mum, nor my sisters, though that’s mainly a personality difference now.
The self-harm stopped for a while. I relapsed twice before I finally managed to
get away from that addiction. It’s
almost been three years now, and it still gets hard at times, but I’ve found
that there’s so many people out there who are willing to help you, and there
are things that you discover that will help you specifically. For me I started helping people that were
younger than me who were going through self-harm and giving them resources and
tips for how to stop. It helped me so
much. Childline is truly an amazing
website, and their forums really helped me a lot, they gave me the chance to
help someone out there. I still love
helping people now, and I’ll do my absolute best to help anyone who needs a
helping hand. Really, I care for you, no
matter how ridiculous it seems that a stranger can care about someone they’ve
never met, I really do.
I’m 19 years old now, I was just diagnosed
with depression a few months ago by an amazing doctor and am now on medication
to help me combat it (and I am currently kicking depression’s ass!). And honestly without Markiplier I might not
have had the courage to go to my doctor by myself at a time when I felt so
alone. My first year of University might
not have been the best, but thanks to Mark I found the determination to carry
on and push through all the barriers and I have not only passed my first year
of University but I also have a job with them, woo!
You’re never alone, please remember
that. There are people like you, like me
everywhere. We’re all together, we’re
all fighting for another chapter of our own stories. We’re a community, and we’re here to help you,
so please lift your chin up and reach out to someone who can help you, because
that’s where the journey to becoming who you need to be begins. Viva La Vida hun, fly high.
Kay (How a Super Heroine
Learns to Fly).