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DoppelgangerDrifter

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  1. This is my first content contribution, I am not sure what to expect - whether or not sharing anything I am thinking or feeling will be a positive experience or a negative one. But I'll give it a shot. I am just going to treat this like a AA meeting- Hi my name is DoppelgangerDrifter & I have depression. I have struggled with depression & anxiety pretty much as far back as I could remember- it was hard growing up to have all these overwhelming emotions, and not knowing how to express them appropriately. I was always too much, too dramatic, too sensitive for anyone to deal with for very long. I hated it about myself too. I wanted to be normal, I wanted to be like everyone else & just be happy. My parents didn't believe in depression- they told me it was all in my head & if I put in more effort to being positive, and grateful, I wouldn't feel so depressed. Now that I am 36 & medicated-what a load of shit that was! It made things a lot more lonely to feel like no one even wanted to understand- but just wanted to ignore it. Wanted me to pretend, but I didn't have that option- it was very real to me. I stayed in my room a lot, drawing, painting, & writing melodramatic poetry...I was "weird". When I was 16, I basically had a breakdown- and it was over something as ridiculous as being broken up with by a complete asshole-loser. The kind of loser who steals Magic cards from Walmart. The kind of asshole who consistently pointed out my flaws and compared me to every goth girl he saw- because that's what he found attractive .I am a green-eyed blonde & back then I smiled a lot- fake it 'til I make it kind of thing. So even though internally I was feeling pretty dark- no one could see it but me. In hindsight I was I could go back and kick that mother****er in the teeth for how he made me feel like he was doing me a favor in being with me. What you need to understand was that he was my first, and I was raised that you don't do that until you are married- so my 16 year old logic was that- it will be ok as long as we end up getting married. It's a laughable thought now, but back then I really feared going to hell. And he hadn't always been this way. When we started dating, he was sweet & funny, & bright- it was the end of his Junior year, and end of my Sophomore- and we dated until he graduated- and that is when he slowly became a different person- after I had fallen in love, after I had given myself. Shortly after graduation, he moved out of his moms, and in with a roommate- who was a girl by the way, and that's when drugs came into the picture- and that's when the mental & emotional toxicity began. I was having to go to bed early for exams the next day- and he would be up partying with all his new friends. Anyway, when I had the "breakdown" I had basically blacked out- I remember the sounds of me searching for something-cabinet doors opening and slamming, drawers opening & shutting, clinking of utensils... but I felt like I was outside of my body... so to know what happened next, which happened without me having a memory of the conscious effort to **** myself- it a bizarre thing, but I had found my boyfriend's brand new set of steak knives & without hesitation I raised my right hand up & came down hard as I could to slash my left arm- twice. I remember screaming something like "Fine, I am not here anymore!" I had cut almost to the bone. Even in the mists of the hazy- pot smoke & black-lit room- I could see that my blood was everywhere. The next thing I remember is being in the front seat of someone's car with a shirt wrapped around my arm as we were speeding down a road. In my vision I felt like I was underwater- I had an image of looking up from the bottom of this ocean- the air bubbles going up to the surface. I started to pray. I was brought up in a southern Baptist environment- and I was praying that God would forgive me & take me. Asshole-loser was in the back seat telling me I was going straight to hell because I had killed myself. I look back now on this whole experience and it's really hard to reconcile with what mental state- I was clearly insane & removed from reality. Anyway...at the hospital- no one is nice to a suicide patient- there was no sympathy for me from the EMTs or nurses or doctors- I remember eyes being rolled. I remember them making sure I felt every bit of pain so that I would learn my lesson to not to something so stupid & selfish again. I remembered feeling like a burden even then, that they had to patch me up- when they had other patients who didn't do this to themselves that needed & deserved their attention. They must have been thinking "here's this privileged girl- who doesn't even know how good she has it- or know what the in the world a bad day really is & she is up in here trying to die of some high school boyfriend" . And I get it. It was true. But they couldn't see the war going on in my head- the one I had no weapons against, no knowledge to understand, and the overwhelming amount of emotions I had been dealing with ALONE. When my parents & my brother arrived, there were three reactions- Dad- furious with me- wouldn't even come into the room (disowned me), Mom- completely bewildered, concerned with the "why" & "how" this happened, & my Brother- who was sobbing, looking at me like he was at my wake. That's the reaction that snapped me back to reality. In that moment I realized how selfish it was to do something like this to yourself- but also it terrified me that I felt totally out of control. Totally out of control. How can any "normal" person be capable of going from typical teenage christian straight A goody-two shoes student- to slashing my arm in a split second decision because of a breakup- "crazy" is all I could think- and it terrified me. Thank God there wasn't a gun in one of those drawers. I have two thick lovely scars that stretch across my forearm, I wear long sleeves literally no matter how hot it is outside to avoid some stranger asking "oh my God, what happened there??" and then having to lie just to avoid explaining this long-ass story - much like how you know you don't want to say anything but "I'm fine" when someone asks how you are- they really don't want to know but they are being polite. It's only polite to lie and save them from truthful discomfort. Soooo....that's my introduction. I figured I would begin at as close to the beginning as I could so that future posts won't be like a hamburger without a bun. I think that's enough for today though- I am drained.
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