I was born and grew up in a Christian home, and my parents brought me up going to church. I never really had any relationship with God and I never knew what it was all about. Even though I went to church every Sunday and sat through boring services and Sunday school, I never understood it. When I was about 12, I started to turn away from God and do other things. I went to a public school and society had it’s impact on me. I still went to church every Sunday, but it didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t really until my teens that I turned my back on Him completely. When I was 14, I decided that if there was a God at all, that he wasn’t doing anything good and he wasn’t stopping the bad things from happening. People all over the world suffer, and if he was really so great, why wouldn’t he stop people from killing themselves, or murdering people, or cancer, and all the other terrible things on this earth. To me, it seemed like He was just sitting there watching us like a TV show. Having a laugh when people screw up. So I decided that he didn't exist at all. At the same time, at the beginning of high school, grade nine year, the start of a terrible time in my life had begun. I was going through severe depression and the high school I went to just made things worse. People would bully and make fun of me, and I felt completely alone.
On November, 12, 2009, my whole life changed forever. I started cutting myself, and for the most part, I thought it helped. It became an addiction by January. The Guidance Office found out through somebody, and I was called down. The lady who talked to me asked me if I cut myself, and then she said something like “I could take something sharp to my wrist, but it would hurt, so why would you do something like that?” It’s something one can’t explain. You cut yourself to release the pain on the inside. The emotional pain is so much, that hurting yourself on the outside is much more tolerable than the pain inside. That’s something you can only understand if you’ve done it, yourself. I thought everyone, including the teachers were against me. I thought they were only pretending to care because it’s their job. They get paid for this, they’d get fired if they didn’t. I only had one solid friend through grade nine, and she’s the one who got me to temporarily stop for 8 months. But stopping for that long only made things worse.
The bullying got worse, because people found out what I had done. They called me things like ‘emo, ugly, fat, stupid’. Words hurt. Don’t believe that saying that sticks and stones can break your bones but words will never hurt you. Because whoever made that up is a complete liar. Words hurt way more than any sticks or stones could ever hurt you. I saw a counselor named Daphne for a while, but that cost money, and my dad's benefits only went so far. I stopped seeing her sometime during grade 9. Then my doctor made a referral to a counselor named Gina. She was nice, for the most part. I saw her for quite some time. Longer than any of my other counselors.
My doctor prescribed me Zoloft for my depression. But when they kicked in, the results were terrifying. They caused me to have suicidal thoughts. That is one of the side-effects of Zoloft. It doesn't make any sense. When I told my doctor about this, she made me stop the drug right away, and soon after started me on another anti-depressant. May, 28, 2010, I decided I just couldn’t keep going like this. I had been writing about it in my journal for months, and finally I thought I could end it. I wrote a short note in my journal and left for the usual walks I went on after school. There was this place I went to under a bridge, it was quiet and I went there to think. That is where I went that day. I sat in an old tire and cried for about 10-20 minutes, listening to ‘Pieces’ by Red. Questioning my life and why was I even here? Then I almost jumped off the side ledge of the bridge. But something stopped me. I loved my 2 closest friends so much, I just couldn’t leave them alone like that. They were going through a pretty rough time as well. I didn’t want to risk them ending their life just because I had. The next month, I seriously contemplated again. I looked up all the facts, and I was going to overdose on my moms Dilantin. I held the bottle in my hand, and I was shaking, and thinking, but again, I just couldn’t do it. I wanted to do it SO BAD. I needed to die. I would have, too. But I couldn’t leave the people I loved behind. Especially my parents. This would kill them.
A couple days later, I went to my counselor (Gina) and I couldn’t help but tell her about my second attempt. She got really worried and had to tell my parents to take me to London Emergency. So that’s where we went. It took forever, and it smelled like hospital. I hate the smell of hospitals. A lot of strange people had to assess me and ask me a lot of questions. This one lady asked me to tell me everything that happened in my life. How is that possible? I got really scared, and I was tired of waiting. I had a headache and all I wanted was to go home, or just kill myself. I remember sitting in a white room, waiting, and just thinking of any possible ways I could kill myself. The only thing I could think of was hanging myself from the pipes on the ceiling. But that wouldn’t work. Because I failed at everything. I failed at life, and I even failed at killing myself. Finally someone came in and told me that they could admit me, or I could go home. I went home, because I had a headache and it was 1 in the morning, and I was tired of talking to people. During that summer, I stayed at my grandmas most days, because I didn’t trust myself alone...
I had started grade 10 fresh at a different school, which was so much better. But that didn’t fix everything. I was still depressed, and I even went through a ‘goth’ stage. My parents noticed of course and told me I couldn’t keep wearing all black all the time. I got mad and claimed I could wear whatever I wanted. I guess I just wanted to express myself and shut people out. I gave in and started wearing some other colours again. During this time, I had an appointment with a psychologist in London, and he was terrible. He told me that if I really wanted to kill myself, I would’ve done it already. That crossed the line for me. I could’ve hit him right then and there. Then he blamed my friends for my problems. This guy wasn’t very professional. I didn’t even want to go there in the first place. I was still seeing Gina, but I lied to her. I stopped telling her when I cut because she could tell my parents, and I absolutely did not want them to find out when I cut... In my mind, the circumstances were horrible. The one time she told my parents on me I freaked out and cried in front of her. Then I was so upset, angry and embarrassed, I just walked out and slammed the door. It took me a while to calm down. That was the last time I saw her for months.
I kept relapsing with my self harm, and things were getting bad again. Soon I started going back to Gina. I had tried to stop cutting so many times. I even went to London ER to be admitted because I felt like I was going to cut. But I got scared and had my parents take me home. When I told Gina this, she told me that I just wasted their time. I was offended, because I had tried to get help on my own - and she had to say that.
The second medication wasn't working for me, so I was eventually put on Effexor XR, which I am still on now.
Through all this, I had a long distance boyfriend, and he helped me a lot. I helped him in return. But there was only so much we could do from so far away. I was trying to recover. But I wasn’t ready. I hated myself, and because of that I couldn’t want recovery for myself. I was trying based on what others wanted. They were getting annoyed with me, or maybe they were just scared. I made more friends at the new school. I still wasn’t good enough. But even my boyfriend got fed up with me. I kept relapsing, and he couldn’t deal with that. So he made me choose between him and self harm. I chose him. Because I thought I loved him. But even he couldn’t keep me from harming myself. In my relationship with him, we video chatted and did terrible things. Things I wish I never did. I regret it. I can’t take it back now. The relationship seemed to be getting worse, though, and I didn’t know what to do. He had his own problems and I could only help so much. I doubt I helped at all. I was helpless. Eventually after 2 years in that relationship, he decided to break up with me at the end of June 2012. I fell apart. That night I could barely sleep at all. I cried and cried. I was even more depressed. I thought I was never gonna find anyone else. Since I wasn't cutting, I had to do something to help me cope with these horrible feelings of hate towards myself, so I started purging my food. It wasn’t that bad, but I stopped after a few months. I had stopped going to church for most of the time. The only time I would go was if there was a potluck, or if a friend I wanted to see was there. I would literally sit through the whole service with my headphones on. I didn't care. I stayed clean from self harm until October. I honestly don’t know how I stayed clean that long. (If you are triggered easily, please skip this paragraph.)
I was cutting from October till the end of grade 12. I had become so addicted to cutting that I would do it almost anywhere. I've cut in my room, in the bathroom, the bathtub, a stall in the public washroom at the mall, the washroom stall at school, even at wal-mart. I would literally go to home hardware just to buy heavy duty razors. It was just like any other addiction. I'd spend my money on razors, but even more money was spent on first aid supplies. It had become so bad that I didn't even know the reason I kept cutting, all I knew was that I was addicted. One cut on my arm changed my outlook. What I was doing was scaring me, but I couldn’t stop. I was in the bath and I cut my arm real bad. It was deep enough for stitches, and I decided to keep going, because I didn’t care. Suddenly in one swipe I must’ve hit something because it bled like crazy. All I could do was watch it run into the water and then REGISTER what was happening, and freak out. I took a washcloth and held it down to stop it, and eventually it stopped. Later I found out from a friend that I probably just missed an artery. It was scary. I didn’t want to accidentally hit one for real. But even after then, I was still cutting on and off. Almost always deep enough for stitches. By this point, it was clear in my mind that I would never be able to stop cutting. I had tried before… But nothing helped.
In April 2013,
I started going to youth group, and that’s when I met Julianna. The first time I went to youth, it was a little scary, because there was so many people in one space, and I have Social Anxiety disorder, so that really triggered it. But all in all, it was a fun experience, so I kept on going every Friday. Even though I was an Atheist, I still enjoyed going, because I got to know the people there and they are so amazing, positive, and outgoing. That was something I wish I could be, but since I was going through a bad time, I was still negative. Fridays were something I always looked forward to. During this time, Julianna and I spent more time together and we really got to know each other. Even though she’s Christian, I still opened up to her, and she didn’t judge me. That’s the first time I opened up to a Christian and wasn’t judged. I was so locked up and insecure, I just needed someone to talk to about things, and just listen. Even though she didn’t really understand, she listened, and that’s something I admired straight away. I'd even tell her when I had cut. I guess that was somehow my last resort for help. Even though the damage had already been done. She tried to help and understand, and that meant a lot. We became really close, and she helped, even if she didn’t think so. She made living in this world just a little more tolerable. She prayed for me, and in the end I think that really, really helped. As we became closer, I slowly became more curious about the God she knew and loved. I was still going through a lot, depressed, self harming more often, especially after the summer. But I still didn’t believe. I didn’t know God. I had turned Him away so long ago, and He had let me suffer all this time. I thought that if there was a God, He would hate me. Why would I believe?
Late September, my grandma became really sick and was in the hospital most of the month. Her kidneys were failing and she had some kind of infection. She slept most of the time and the doctors told us she wouldn’t be walking out of the hospital. I broke down on that Wednesday, I didn’t want her to die. There was nothing I could do. We went to see her and she was just sleeping. On Thursday we visited her, and she was talking, and wanted to go into a nursing home, because she couldn’t stay at home anymore. We found out she had less than 3 months to live, but she didn’t even last 3 hours. She died on Friday night. October 4th. I was pulled out of youth to be told. I didn’t cry until later that night. The next day I went to Canada’s Wonderland with Julianna and some other friends. It kept my mind off of everything going on. It was fun. But I still miss her, and I still ended up cutting days later.
In the beginning of November 2013, I went to church for the first time in over a month. While everyone was singing, I suddenly got this overwhelming feeling, like I wanted to cry. Because everyone was so joyful and happy, and I was falling apart. I wanted whatever they had. I wanted to be happy. I was so confused. I started asking Julianna lots of questions, and realizing that God does exist. November 5th, 2013, was the last time I harmed myself. And ever since I found God, I haven’t felt like doing it again. I’ve thought about it once or twice, but I just have no desire to carry it through. God just completely took it away.I was addicted
to cutting, and He took that all away! I found this overwhelming joy and peace. I know this is from God. He suddenly came into my life, and I started praying, and He saved me. I know that if He didn’t, I would have been headed for suicide again. I had no purpose, but now my purpose is HIM. This seems so crazy, and I know it is. God is so amazing, and I am so thankful for His love! Soon I realized Julianna helped so much more than both of us thought. Before she met me, she prayed for people who needed to know Gods love to be drawn to her, and that is why we met. God sent us together for a reason. So I could be saved just at the right time. Jesus is still healing me, and He is my HERO. I am feeling so much better, and that month was such a life changing month for me. I’m saved, and He loves me, even though I don’t deserve it, He keeps pouring out His grace on me. I want to live for Him, and make Him happy, so that makes me happy. I’m recovering now, and I even got rid of my blades. Julianna and I threw them into a huge pond and then we prayed together. I look at my arms and all the scars I've made, and know that I'll never have to make any more!
Although I still struggle, I know I have God on my side. In March 2016, I was finally diagnosed with Borderline Personality disorder, and while that brought a lot of closure, it also opened up more questions and figuring out how to deal with it. My journey with mental health will never completely be over, and that's okay.
I am so so thankful for Jesus and that He sent us together for such an amazing reason. Life is full of hope now. And I’m forever glad!!I thank God for the broken road that led me straight to HIM. "And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose for them." -Romans 8:28"So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus." -Romans 8:1"You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good. He brought me to this position so I could save the lives of many people." -Genesis 50:20"For I can do everything through Christ who gives me strength." -Philippians 4:13