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Mahi

Depression At 12 - My Story

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This is my story of how I became depressed at age 12.

I came here for help (why I'm on this site at 13 years of age will become clear if you read this post in it's entirety). Advice on how to cope would be much appreciated. Any advice, for that matter, would be much appreciated.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. It means a lot more than you'd think to FINALLY get this off my chest.

 

~~~

 

My name is Mahi. I’m currently 13, and I’m in 8th grade. I love to draw, play video games, and learn.

I’ve also been depressed and suicidal since I was barely 12.

 

Before that, I could never process the idea of wanting to **** yourself. It seemed so crazy to me. Nor could I understand the word “abuse” and it’s meanings. Who could ever do that? was the only thought I had when I heard of the word.

I was blind from the word, despite being abused as far back as I can remember. I remember in the third grade, my mom hit my hard on my back to show my dad who had power in the house.

In fourth grade, I was learning radical expressions and the Quadratic formula (which was an 8th grade standard in California), and it was so confusing to me. So confusing, in fact, that my mom thought that pushing me into the corner of a table would fix me.

I will never forget what happened. I felt such a sharp pain ripple through my mouth, and I started crying instantly. I ran to the bathroom and opened my mouth, only to see streams of blood flowing from my gums. I was terrified, because I saw a small hole in my gums. My mom chastised me for crying and not finishing my tutoring homework on the Quadratic formula, and took away my electronic devices for that.

 

 

The story of how I became depressed starts a few days after I turned 12. I was competing in a Speech & Debate tournament. The event that I was doing required me to give a speech on one of three pre-assigned words. If you didn’t know what any of the three words were, well, you were screwed.

I was screwed in the second round. I’m a perfectionist, so when things didn’t go my way, I was notably really down for the rest of the day. My mom noticed, and I told her why I was so down.

She blamed it on the fact that I don’t read enough, and after started yelling at me about how stupid I was. When I asked to be excused, she took the iPad from my hands and yelled more at me.

She said to me: “You don’t deserve anything.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran to the bathroom, locked myself in, and cried to myself. Minutes, then hours.

She’s my mom, I thought. She must be right about me. I must be a failure. I must not deserve anything.

She took everything from me. I draw based on images from video games. She took away all of my electronic devices. I had no contact with my friends (this was during summer), and I had nothing to do, really. In that time, I had no choice but to just sit in a corner, and watch the days go by.

During that period, I couldn’t do much - but one thing that I could not stop thinking about was myself. I started to analyze, critique myself, in ways I had never done before. I criticized everything about myself - my personality, my appearance, my intelligence, you name it.

I became depressed.

 

In my room, I have many windows. Through those windows, I can see many hills. I looked through them frequently during this time. I started thinking about suicide. What if I just jumped off those hills? I thought. I have nothing to live for, anyway.

Excerpt from my diary:

I’ve thought about this 24/7 for the last week. I want to die more than anything. Everything I hate will be gone, but, at the same time, everything I love will be gone. It’s a fair trade, though.

When I look into my eyes in the mirror, all I see is sadness.

When I hear a responsibility, I am filled with fear. Fear of procrastination. Fear of failure. Fear of my mom.

When I see my mom or dad, hatred engulfs me.

Everyone thinks that I’m a normal student living a normal life. That’s just on the outside. The inside is a different story.

In my heart, and my brain, I think I’m not good enough - no - I’m not good at all. Everything good I had previously thought about myself has been replaced with it’s opposite. Everything not so great about myself has been elevated to a more extreme level.  I don’t know who I am any more. Death ends this confusion. I am more than ready.

 

I had tried to force it all in. I was so afraid of being judged. I thought people would think I’m weak, for not being able to keep all of these emotions within me. I told nobody for a very long time. It was my secret - probably the darkest one that I’ve ever had.

But parts of my depression seeped out after summer ended, in 7th grade. I remember in a poem I wrote for school, I talked about my life status. The poem was a “dialogue” poem, and one side was who I aspired to be, and the other was me.

The poem:

I am one side of a person                                   I am one side of a person

Confident                                                              Shy

Always believing                                                  Always believing

That I can do it                                                     That I can never succeed

 

I am one side of a person                                   I am one side of a person

Who lives                                                               Who lives

With pride for                                                       In fear of

My talents                                                             My future

My abilities                                                            My life

Who sleeps                                                           Who sleeps

Longing tomorrow                                              Dreading tomorrow

 

I am one side of a person                                    I am one side of a person

Who sees                                                               Who sees

The glass                                                                The glass

As half full                                                              As half empty

 

I am one side of a person                                    I am one side of a person

Who feels                                                               Who feels

Free                                                                         Trapped

That there’s so much to try                                Like I’m stuck in my own paradox

Forever                                                                   Forever

 

I am one side of a person                                    I am one side of a person

Who shows my true colors                                 Who wears a mask

Smiling                                                                   Smiling

When I am happy                                                 While still being miserable

My expressions are like a portal                       My smiles are like a guard

To my heart                                                           For my mind

 

I am one side of a person                                   I am one side of a person

Who wants                                                            Who wants

To live in the moment                                         Life to come to an an end

And forget what’s coming next                         And see what’s coming next

 

I am one side of a person                                   I am one side of a person

The top side of a coin                                         The bottom side of a coin

Always facing the light                                       Always in the darkness

Confident                                                              Shy

Nobody figured who the two sides were supposed to represent, though. Or if they did, they never confronted me about it.

I also ended up telling someone that I was depressed, and how I became this way. It was around that time I was planning to commit suicide.

But he told me: It’s selfish.

And I realized that he was right. It would be selfish. To this day, the only reason I haven’t committed suicide is because I would hurt so many people. My friends are the only people I’m certain care about me. I owe my life to them. Because they saved me from whatever comes after death.

 

However, that mindset left me soon a few months after I realized that.

I do Kumon, a tutoring program that bases its curriculum on worksheets. They don’t really consider the true abilities of the student. At least, I never felt they did. Because in 7th grade, I was already doing calculus. It was so frustrating. I hardly understood it, and I couldn’t reach out for help. My dad was usually busy. My mom was abusive. None of my friends knew how to do it.

Because it was so stressful, I typically put it off. My mom would constantly yell at me about how I should do it, and that I was stupid for not doing it. She threatened to peel my skin (as usual). That’s how I always did my Kumon - in fear.

 

But that day the yelling was worse than usual. I didn’t understand why, and to this day I still don’t.

 

It was so bad that I attempted suicide.

When my parents were asleep, I crept up to my medicine drawer. I had done my research, and I learnt that in large enough quantities, hydrogen peroxide (rubbing alcohol) would be deadly. So I got a tall glass, and poured the glass full.

I drank it all. I remember when I was finished, there was a smile on my face. The fact that I craved death at age 12, and was willing to attempt to die, is something I’m so deeply ashamed of. It’s so hard to admit.

I threw up soon afterwards. I had never felt so sick in my entire life. For the next week, just moving was a struggle. I was in such intense pain - it was like someone was pounding a hammer in my stomach in an attempt to break free.

I remember passing out once, too. Because I had drank so much hydrogen peroxide.

The pain eventually subsided, though. I didn’t drink enough of it.

 

The days afterward were especially painful (mentally). I expected to die, but I didn’t. So I started to reconsider my current situation.

I looked up suicide survival stories, and other things people did to stop suicide. Many recommended talking to a trusted adult. I had nobody I could trust though. I didn’t even trust my friends. I felt so alone. I didn’t know anyone else who was going through the same things I was.

I couldn’t go a day without crying to myself about how weak I was for not being able to face my problems. About how I couldn’t even **** myself right. I was lost. Completely lost.

 

I ended up telling some of the details to one of my other friends. She was also dealing with depression, so I felt I could trust her. And she told me not to give up. That suicide was never the answer.

It took me a long time to believe her.

 

But when I finally did, it was too late. I never got to enjoy the feeling of relief that I wouldn’t actually commit suicide.

My mom decided I should start volunteering at Kumon in the summer before 8th grade. I hated it. It was 4 hours of tutoring, and often times I wouldn’t even have any work. I didn’t have a proper phone on which to text friends, or play games, so I was just...there.

Two days before my birthday, I remember telling my mom that I felt really sick - which I did - and that I couldn’t volunteer. She didn’t buy it, and hid all of my electronics, which I got back only recently, and then came to pick me up.

I tried to tell her how I felt. That I thought she was treating me poorly. But she thought I was being ignorant of proper parenting. She didn’t believe any of my thoughts.

Excerpt from my diary:

There is no such thing as fun, there is no such thing as happiness, there is no such thing as the desire to live.

I just want to die. Now probably more than ever.

[My blowup with my mom]...I thought it’d go differently. But I should have known better than that. Why would she even care about my feelings? If I committed suicide she wouldn’t care. I’m sure she’d be ecstatic. If I told her I was suicidal, she’d have the biggest grin on her face.

She doesn’t f**king care about me. Some mom she is.

I still stand by my beliefs of her abusing me.

Abuse is defined as cruel and violent treatment of a person or animal. How is throwing me into the sharp edge of a table, which resulted in a hole in my gums, not abuse? How is hitting me just to show who has power in the house not abuse? How is telling someone, “You don’t deserve anything.” not abuse? Not to mention throwing my head into the stair rail...how is none of that considered abuse to her?

...

All I want...is one day of complete happiness. It’s been almost a year since I’ve been truly happy...and I just want one day where I can be. That’s all I want.

 

Of course, when I got home that day, the one thing on my mind was suicide. I started crying to myself. I need help, I cried. Someone. Anyone! Please help me…

 

I became so depressed. I hated everyone and everything. I began to practice self harm (I vividly remember cutting deep into my left hand and being in immense pain whenever I played violin). I couldn’t talk to my friends without fear of my secrets being noticed. I felt as if it was a massive scar on my face, and that everyone would be looking at it, trying to find out where it came from.

And nobody helped me out of the mess I was in. Because nobody ever found out. Because I was too afraid to share. I was too afraid of being judged by my peers.

I remember thinking to myself: If life is a rope, currently I’m making my way through a knot. A big one. And I don’t know if this is the end of the rope for me.

I think it was in September of 8th grade when my mom decided that she needed to show me who was truly in control of the house. So she decided to starve me. For 3-ish days, I ate nothing. My weight dropped drastically. I went from being in the healthy BMI range to being underweight. On the night of the third day, I was too dizzy to walk straight. My eyes were blurry. I couldn’t even see.

I remember getting a C- on a math test I took the second day (granted, most other people did much worse, [MANY failed], but generally I could wing tests and be fine). It was so hard to concentrate.

It was also during that time that I reconsidered committing suicide by jumping off of the hills near my house. I started writing death notes, thinking about who to give my possessions to, when I would do it, and even what clothes I would wear.

But then I remembered what one of my friends told me: It’s selfish.

So I had to stop. For then, at least.

 

During winter break I realized a lot about myself.

I realized that all I really wanted in my life was control. That’s why I loved to draw - because I would have control over what I was drawing. And that’s also why I loved to play video games - because I would have control over what I was doing.

Me realizing that was kind of a turning point. I realized then, too: I have control over my thoughts, and my speech! I just have to admit something to myself.

So I walked to a mirror and looked at myself in the eye. I took a deep breath, and tried to say - “I’m happy to be alive”.

I say “tried” because I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t believe it. I went dumb. I couldn’t say it, no matter how hard I tried. So many emotions ran through my head. I was angry at myself because I couldn’t say it. I was sad because this proved, at least in my mind, that I wasn’t happy. And yet more emotions that I can’t even put into words.

 

The power of the human brain is truly unmistakable. Those thoughts resonate within me, and they never stop. No matter how “happy” I am.

 

I went to Disneyland with my friends in mid-March of 8th grade. We were in rooms of 6, and our group of 6 was settled upon pretty quickly. 2 of the people in my room were in our room because they were friends with my friends. I was okay with that because they seemed nice enough.

And we legitimately had a good time - well, I had a good time. I don’t know about the others.

On the way back home (a 8-9 hour drive), my brain took over again. I said almost nothing on the entire way back because I was so lost in thought. Everyone thought I was crazy or sick or something, but I wasn’t. And even that made me feel guilty - that people would focus on me when they could spend time on other people.

In my head, all I was thinking was: I probably ruined this trip for my roommates. They probably hate me and wish I didn’t exist. I feel terrible for doing this...I should have stayed home - they would have had more fun without me.

I kept remembering the life I had at home, and realizing that my escape from it wasn’t the trip I had imagined. I had envisioned being happy - instead I was feeling guilt and sadness beyond reasonable measure.

 

It’s now early April.

I realize that the scars my mother left on me will never go away. Too many nights I wake up from nightmares with the words help me in my mouth.

This makes up who I am.

It’s not a choice. This defines who I am...and I can’t erase the definition.

 

My name is Mahi. I’m still in 8th grade.

And this is my story. A story that will never end for as long as I live. For the chapters keep getting reread.

I don’t know if there are any chapters after this one. I may not be around to find out.

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Wow Mahi, you are very eloquent and intelligent. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you! Feeling suicidal is a natural reaction to the mistreatment you've experienced. Kids always end up being really hard on themselves if that's how their parents treat them. Is it possible that your dad could stick up for you? (My dad never protected me from my harsh mom). Maybe you could tell him how much your mom has hurt you. She sounds like a wounded woman. Perhaps her parents were hard on her. 

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10 hours ago, long journey said:

Wow Mahi, you are very eloquent and intelligent. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you! Feeling suicidal is a natural reaction to the mistreatment you've experienced. Kids always end up being really hard on themselves if that's how their parents treat them. Is it possible that your dad could stick up for you? (My dad never protected me from my harsh mom). Maybe you could tell him how much your mom has hurt you. She sounds like a wounded woman. Perhaps her parents were hard on her. 

Thank you!

I've never considered asking my father for help because he'd tell my mom immediately (or more than likely think I'm crazy and tell me to stop saying things like that).

But, now that you mention it, I never thought that my mom could be "wounded". She did live with only one parent, so maybe that has something to do with it.

Either way, I've gained valuable insight from your reply! Thanks so much!

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Your story is absolutely unique. I'm sure your situation is very painful, difficult and extremely challenging. 

There is an old adage you may or may not have heard: It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.

Also try to remember that suicide is a permanent solution to temporary problems.

We are here to help you and as the years go by you will gain more and more insight for yourself and the rest of us depression sufferers. 

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18 minutes ago, Oscar K said:

Your story is absolutely unique. I'm sure your situation is very painful, difficult and extremely challenging. 

There is an old adage you may or may not have heard: It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.

Also try to remember that suicide is a permanent solution to temporary problems.

We are here to help you and as the years go by you will gain more and more insight for yourself and the rest of us depression sufferers. 

Those two sayings are so deep, and they're giving me a new perspective on how to handle things. Thanks for sharing them with me!

I appreciate your support! :)

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I agree that you are very eloquent and intelligent. You sound incredibly self-aware for a girl your age.
With a mother like that, my goal would be to get a job and move out as soon as possible, which in your case could be achievable in 3 to 5 years. It may sound long, but it's worth being patient because there is a much better life that awaits away from abusive parental control, with many caring individuals on one's path. It's worth fighting to reach independence and create a more healthy environment for oneself.
In the meantime, I'd try to use every resource possible. Other family members, teachers, school psychologists, youth community centres etc.

 

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22 minutes ago, Hertz said:

I agree that you are very eloquent and intelligent. You sound incredibly self-aware for a girl your age.
With a mother like that, my goal would be to get a job and move out as soon as possible, which in your case could be achievable in 3 to 5 years. It may sound long, but it's worth being patient because there is a much better life that awaits away from abusive parental control, with many caring individuals on one's path. It's worth fighting to reach independence and create a more healthy environment for oneself.
In the meantime, I'd try to use every resource possible. Other family members, teachers, school psychologists, youth community centres etc.

 

Thank you! :)

Hearing from someone who knows what they're talking about is truly reassuring. I'll take your advice and suggestions to heart. 

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what i see is, someone, with evidently quoting other sources, see the difference in the print, is claiming something, that is unprovable but authomatically raising appreciation for the culprit.  In my opinion, this is a sham, a con, to get followers and later a money from them.

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18 minutes ago, Bhorout said:

what i see is, someone, with evidently quoting other sources, see the difference in the print, is claiming something, that is unprovable but authomatically raising appreciation for the culprit.  In my opinion, this is a sham, a con, to get followers and later a money from them.

If you don't believe my story, I can prove it to you. However you want and to the best of my abilities.

This is too true. I wish it wasn't, but it is.

In no way is this a "sham", a "con", or a way to get money.

This is my cry for help.

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17 minutes ago, Bhorout said:

what i see is, someone, with evidently quoting other sources, see the difference in the print, is claiming something, that is unprovable but authomatically raising appreciation for the culprit.  In my opinion, this is a sham, a con, to get followers and later a money from them.

Before accusing someone of being a con, one should have pretty solid evidence himself. What are the other sources you are mentioning? I googled sentences from her post and they all led to this page. The difference in print can easily be explained by her copy-pasting from her own diary.

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6 minutes ago, Mahi said:

If you don't believe my story, I can prove it to you. However you want and to the best of my abilities.

This is too true. I wish it wasn't, but it is.

In no way is this a "sham", a "con", or a way to get money.

This is my cry for help.

You have nothing to prove Mahi. We are not here to judge, but only to listen and help to the best of our abilities. Normally this forum is a safe place to express oneself, I'm sorry you had to get through this

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48 minutes ago, Hertz said:

You have nothing to prove Mahi. We are not here to judge, but only to listen and help to the best of our abilities. Normally this forum is a safe place to express oneself, I'm sorry you had to get through this

Thank you so much for defending me. 

This is the first time that I have spilled such a dark part of my life into a public area, and I knew an issue like this would come up. People wouldn't believe me. 

But I'm grateful to know that there are people who do believe me, and will stand up to protect me. Thanks for being one of those people.

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1 hour ago, 20YearsandCounting said:

:hugs:Mahi. Don't give up, keep trying and keep doing your best. Things will improve, even though that's probably hard to believe right now. If you have any problems, please let me or another Admin, Mod, or Support Staff know.

Thank you. :)

I won't hesitate to contact you or other Admins, Mods, or Staff if I have other problems I need sorted out.

Your support is much appreciated. 

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Mahi... your story is a very tragic one, and your mom did the very thing a parent should never, ever, ever do - harm an innocent child. I want you to put all of her harsh words and her bad treatment behind - You're a nice person with a good heart, and you deserve to be happy . You deserve nothing less than happiness , and everything more...Look forward to the future, because now is where things will get better. :)

You 'll always have us. Always. 

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15 hours ago, Hairpy Burpday said:

Mahi... your story is a very tragic one, and your mom did the very thing a parent should never, ever, ever do - harm an innocent child. I want you to put all of her harsh words and her bad treatment behind - You're a nice person with a good heart, and you deserve to be happy . You deserve nothing less than happiness , and everything more...Look forward to the future, because now is where things will get better. :)

You 'll always have us. Always. 

Thank you. :)

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