Looking back five months

I struggled with depression at about the age of 14. I am not sure exactly what triggered it, but I think I can attribute it to a couple of different things.
For one, my dad was getting worse and worse with his drinking. I was beginning to resent him for not protecting me from certain things and neglecting myself and the rest of my family. It was becoming too much to handle at once. I was getting tired of the same old crap from him.
My brother had found himself a serious girlfriend he began spending every second with. I think it was his way of getting away from my dad and the way he treated us. Alex and I had always been a package deal. As much as we fought, I felt safe around him. He would stick up and fight for me. The two of us had to grow up pretty early, and we did it together. Now he had left me behind, many times to deal with my belligerant Dad.
My mom was working a lot as well, and she was finding other ways to be absent. The stress of their marriage and my dad's drinking was taking a toll on her especially. She didn't really know what to do with him anymore and he was drinking away a lot of our money.

Then there was me. I was left alone. I tried to be gone as much as possible. I would dread coming home from school everyday, but I also hated going to school everyday. I didn't have a lot of friends and was still being made fun of (yes, in 8th grade) on a regular basis.

Every morning I woke up I wanted to die. I didn't know what the point was in living. I felt like no one gave a shit. I felt like nothing. I would think about what life would be like without me, and I decided things would have probably be better. They couldn't get any worse.
I thought about death a lot. Mostly about killing myself and saving my family and friends the trouble of dealing with me. I had convinced myself that their lives would be better if I was gone.

So I started writing a letter. THE letter, to be exact. The one that I would leave behind when my soul would leave earth. I wanted peace so badly. I wanted to be happy again, and I couldn't see that being a reality for me. Ever again. I just wanted to be done with everything and everyone I knew.

I planned it out. I knew a time when no one would be home. I had the letter done. I had a knife. I was so set on it.

Something stopped me. To this day, I can't tell you what it was. All I know is that all of a sudden, while sitting in the middle of my living room looking at my wrist and holding a kitchen knife, something filled me. A calm came over me and I felt warm. And this whole situation felt wrong. I dropped the knife and pulled out my Bible (random, I thought) and started reading. I laid in my bed curled up reading, crying my eyes out.

I had almost taken my own life because I thought I had nothing to live for, as an 8th grader! I couldn't see past my own pain. I couldn't see that there was an answer. That no matter how shitty things got, there would be someone there for me.

Eventually my depression got to the point where people noticed. And my mom found out eventually that I had thought about suicide, although I don't think she realized how close I was. I began going to youth group with some friends who knew I desired a church but didn't have one. Thus began my spiritual renewing and a clear purpose for my life.

I found hope in one of my favorite verses I stumbled across that night I almost killed myself: "He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever" (Rev. 21:4).

Last semester, I was falling into this pattern again. I woke up everyday and didn't understand why I was here. I wanted to leave school because I absolutely hated it. I was working myself to death and therefore time with God was stretched. I didn't feel I had anyone to turn to. All the people who were trying to help me I successfully pushed away, even though I wasn't doing it consciously. I was so afraid to let people in, and I still am. Always will be.

I have a hard time asking for help. And I didn't want anyone to know how I was feeling, because I remembered exactly how it escalated last time. I didn't want it to get that far. So I denied that it was happening for a really long time. I thought that not acknowledging it was the best way to go. Unfortunately people saw right through that. And I was a pretty unpleasant person to be around.

How great am I blessed? God has put a lot of positive people in my life. I just wish I could find it in myself to open up to them and trust them. If only I could trust God as well--things would work out a lot better.

Trust violated is tough to get back. Someday I might dismantle that wall I build between myself and everyone else I know.