I wanted to die so badly


I wanted to die so badly. I didn't know why, but I just wanted everything to end. I've felt this way for a long time. Ever since I could remember I always felt alone, I was the fat kid, the stupid daughter, and the nice one who got teased. I used to come home from school in 1st grade crying because the kids would press themselves against the walls when I walked down the halls and shout, "Brittany germs, Brittany germs!" My Mom just said that kids are mean, but it was never enough. I only really had 2 friends up until the 6th grade. I didn't even know most of the kids in my small class of 65 people. I was an outcast and by the time I was elevin I desperately wanted to fit in. I hung out with a girl who drank and had sex with guys just because. I though she was so cool. I learned so much from her, unfortunatly, it was all the wrong stuff. I hung out with her the whole 5th grade year and wasn't ever happy. On the last day, my male teacher sent the girl to sit in the hall and he pulled me aside and I will never forget what he said, "Don't let people like her take advantage of you. Your better than that." I didn't understand what he meant at the time and I didn't really care. If I had only listed to him sooner. Well, by that summer I was starting to think of my options. If I were to kill myself, what would happen to me? Would God let me into Heavin? I didn't know, so I just thought about painless ways to go. I didn't have a key to the gunsafe, and that would be too messy. I don't think I could ever pull the trigger. ( I could have found the key easily, but I didn't want to go in that much pain in case any "unforseen mistakes" occured. Plus I didn't know how to load the gun or take the safety off. But if I had wanted to go that way, I would have had the means since my father and brother are avid hunters and we have over a dozen guns.) Anyway, when 6th grade started, I was teased even more. Damn kids! Everything I did was wrong. I had more friends now, but quantity isn't better than quality as I found out recently. I was smart and doing well, but I was placed in a math class that was not beyone my ability, but when you're doing 3 or 4 lessons an hour, I just couldn't keep up. So I switched to a class that did a chapter every month. I was bored and sad all the time. After that, math and science were just too much for me to handle. We had just gotten a brand new ATV when I was going into 7th grade and I always had a blast driving it through the sandy paths by my house. But when my family started to make me angry, it became my escape. I began to want to die again. I would race at 60 mph aimed right at a big tree and pray that the lord wouldn't let me chicken out and that when I died he would forgive me and not send me to hell. I was in so much pain. My sister had always hated me. She would pinch me when I was still in my car seat at under one year old. When I was older, she flung a knife at my forehead and if I hadn't ducked, it would have burried itself an inch in my head. After she went to Mexico and brought back slingshots for my brothers, she decided to fling money from the jar at me and left probobly 50 or so welts on me. (not an exaggeration.) We had never been very close and her toung was as sharp as a razor, and she had no qualms about using it often. I was fat, and stupid, and ugly, and nobody liked me, and she had it out for me. She was always stronger than me, so I had a genuine fear of her. Anyway, back to the ATV part. At the last second, I would pull away and curse myself for doing it. I would spend hours a day trying again and again to die in this way. I talked to my Mom about it and she just said that that was part of growing up, and that when she was 20 she would lean agianst the screen in her 13th floor window and hope it fell out and she'd die. So nothing was ever done. Then I started to realize that an OD was the perfect way to go. I didn't use illegal drugs, if I was going to do this, I was going to mix OTC drugs. They were much easier to get a hold of. At this point my hair was falling out, I was unable to fall asleep or eat, I was always in severe pain from the most intense stomache cramps. Finally, my mom started to take me to the family doctor, but because I had been in for cramps before and had always had a problem with constipation, he just sent me home with the orders to "clean out my system." I was at his office once or twice a week because nothing ever got better. Finally, when my mom was talking to her hairdresser about me, the stylist said, my daughter had those exact same symptoms and she was finally diagnosed with depression. You should go and take Brittany in just to see if that's what it is. My mom called me into her room that afternoon and started to talk to me about weather I wanted to pursue this or not. I ran upstairs to my room and rummaged through my top drawer for a tiny white card with glossy black letters. I showed it to her and she started to laugh. I told her that I had had this for a week because I thought that I should kill myself, but, well, I don't know why I grabbed the card. I just saw it in my counselor's office at school one day and grabbed it. Anyway, I went to the doctor and this guy was a complete duff. He threw a brain at me the second I sat down. He talked to me and to my mom and decided that I needed to be on anti-depressants right away and that I had what he called "girl ADHD", which he explained is where a girls mind goes into hyper drive thinking about whatever, and no matter how hard they tried they couldn't concentrate. So I left with a perscription for Celexa and Aderall. I was taken off the Aderall because my hands and feet were loosing circulation and I couldn't sit still, which defeated the pupouse of my having it in the first place. I was then put on Concerta instead. This was better and I'm just starting to get normal circulation back. (Aderall is basically a persciption form of speed which is why it's so hard to stop taking. Luckily, I had no problems switching over.) Then, I was put on Lamictal because of my severe mood swings. I was given the title "boarderline bipolar". I was also in talk therepy. It all is helping, but I'm not very good at remembering to take my medicine and am often still suicidal. I'm on the long road to recovery and it is a bumpy on. But one day I'll really be able to handle my illness. I know tht I'll never be "normal" and I was told that I'd be able to stop taking my meds. eventually, but after a year of being on them, I think I'll always be on them. If I can just learn to manage my illness, I'll be fine. So until the day that my life is complete, I'll be "in recovery." I hope that this will maybe help someone who is going through what I did. God bless and good luck!


Angel of Death
Nice Write....

Way to show your own personal strenght and courage to share this with people.Hope you will share more of your writting thoughts and feeling with the class...