Growing up early on I was diagnosed clinically depressed. Between my father overseas after 9/11 and an alcoholic mom, my only escape was to go to a friend’s house or see my granddad. In early middle school, I was dealing with my depression and wrote my first letter. Thinking no one would see it, I tossed it in the trash when I came out of my slump. Well, a janitor must’ve been curious as he found it and gave it to the higher staff. The only thing my school did was tell me I shouldn’t think that way. So, I tried to ignore those thoughts when they came. Getting into athletics was a huge coping mechanism in school. When I got out of high school, I got really bad into hard drugs. I had never even touched a drug before graduation. It tore apart my family and caused me to fall into bad depression. At 18 I had my first attempt and again no serious talks or anything other than the same “don’t think that way”. As I started to finally get away from my hard drugs I was doing better… until I wasn’t. I relapsed and it was worse than the first. I was stealing and lying to people constantly. I was taking drugs into work and doing them in the bathroom. And my mental state only got worse. I ended up attempting again but this time I was rushed to the hospital, and as I was laying in the hospital I started to hallucinate and had a vision of what would happen if I had died. I saw the pain that my family was experiencing, the way it affected my friends, and nd it changed me to reach out when I am feeling down. I learned that even just a hug could change someone’s whole day. Life truly is precious. I understand times are hard but please reach out! You’re not alone! And our story isn’t over ❤️
