When I started writing, I was 15. I had this old notebook – the kind you buy for writing notes in class – that I had found in a recycling bin. It started out as just a place I would doodle in while daydreaming in class (it didn’t take long till it started filling up). I would and still don’t ever start on the first page of a notebook and I don’t use them from front to back either; I pick any spot that feels like a good place.
At the time, most of what I wrote about was what I thought to be “regular-teenaged-drama”. I put it in quotation marks because it wasn’t regular, but I thought it to be. What was really happening was that I was entering my first and what would be my longest and worst major depressive episode. At first, I was only grumpy. Then, I was angry. Eventually, I became someone I didn’t know existed inside of me. I had a hard time remembering what it felt like to just be happy; I didn’t know how to smile genuinely and I felt that I was all alone.
I felt alone because it seemed no one else in my friend group or my whole grade for that matter was going through anything remotely close to what I was. I didn’t believe that anyone would have understood and I still don’t think they really would have. Nothing major was going wrong in my life and yet I was thinking about death and felt that the only way I could feel anything was to cut myself. The cutting got pretty bad. I recall one cut that bled for 3 days.
Eventually, someone found out about my cutting and suicidal thoughts – they told my parents. At the time of course, I thought this was the worst thing anyone could ever do to me! But thinking back now, it probably saved my life.
All of these happenings, my thoughts, poems, rants, and (creepy) drawings were recorded in that one notebook someone had discarded. It had become something of a friend for me and I still hold onto it dearly. I still struggle to imagine myself thinking and believing some of the things I wrote in there…but I’ve come a long way from there. Meds and therapy have worked wonders for me. Meeting my husband in grade 11 was also one of the best things that have ever happened to me.
Unfortunately though, life isn’t always wonderful and being who I am, I’ve started to struggle once again. This is one of the reasons I’ve created this blog! I no longer have a notebook to write in but I have this space now. And I plan to use it 🙂
Take care everyone,