Help, I need somebody....

[CrispyRingo]

I have always dismissed my scars as pointless labels of what I have been through, and I always try to hide them. Not that I'm ashamed of them or anything, but I just don't want to answer the questions others unknowingly ask. I find it, as you said, very intrusive. I told myself that if they really understood me and my situation and really wanted to help, they wouldn't ask.

Hiding the exposing of my arms and legs became my way of avoiding people who didn't understand. For example, I wear my jumper at school, and long sleved shirts at home. Because it is the "winter months," teachers allow jumpers and blazers to be worn. Because my scars have turned a weird pinkish colour (and deep purple in the cold), I don't know what I am going to do when Term 4 comes and teachers and students question the wearing of jumpers.

Once I couldn't find my jumper, or it was shrunken from the dryer or something, and I had to go the day without it. I was distraught. How would I face the questioning, not concerns but questioning, stares and comments of strangers, teachers and so called friends? I guessed I relied on that assumption that they would understand, my friends inparticular. Big mistake.

Because my scars and wounds from recent rough patches were obvious and snaked all around my arm, there was no way I could hide them, and I knew it was inevitable. I have a friend who apparently was depressed. She told me, and I quote, "I feel like if I met myself, I would hate me." I thought to myself, doesn't everyone? I know I would, but that doesn't mean she was clinically depressed, does it?

You see, she had a new friend in grade 12 who influenced her alot, and took her to meet the school counceller. She said she was lovely. I thought she was the most horrid human being I had encountered in my lifetine, bar my brother and sister. I know what you are thinking, but it's more than sibling rivalry. I feel like my sister is responsible for my depression and low self-esteem. She doesn't think for herself, but that doesn't mean she is completely self-consumed, does it? See, my mother favours her like there is no tomorrow. I can tell she loves my sister more than she loves me, it shows. I wonder sometimes if she loves me at all. My sister could have stood up for me, told my mother that what she was doing wasn't right, that it wasn't fair. And it wasn't. But what would she know.

Anyway, this day I didn't wear my school jumper, I encountered three people in total who noticed and reacted to my scars. First was a sub teacher in Extension Science. Her name was Mrs Woods. At the desks we were sitting at, there was a small space underneath the benchtop where I rested and hid my left arm. But I was at an awkward angle and she saw them, saying, "What's this, Amie? Hey?" She looked at me for a while, in which time I made a point of avoiding her drilling gaze, then patted me on the shoulder and walked away. I felt violated, fureous, embarassed. I stared at the benchtop for a while, then looked up to see my friend (the friend I talked about before) staring at me. I was enraged to see that the expression on her face showed no concern, no pity, no sympathy or cureosity. Merely scorn. She looked down on me. I think I even saw the unconstrained hint of a smile toutching her lips. "Show me," she said with slight, amused laughter in her voice. I shook my head defiantly. I was disappointed, more than words can describe, and I made no effort to hide that fact. I thought I could rely on her, that she would understand. I have to admit, since her new friend entered her life, I had begun to see that she was no longer my friend, but some-one who put up for me (like everyone else), not someone who was glad to be around me, who enjoys my presence. That's what friends are for, right? I thought so. At the time, I was gutted; I got over it. But now, looking at her humoured face, I felt I had lost her friendship. She didn't care, and that was clear to me now. And it got worse, alot worse.

As a result of this encounterance, I was sent to the school counceler the following week. I can truthfully say that the experience ranks as one of my worst. I got a message from one of my teachers instructing me to go to the counceler at the beginning of lunch immidietly. As soon as I heard this I knew I wasn't going. And I didn't, not without being forced, that is. When I went to my next class after break, the teacher told me again about the appointment, telling me the email was sent to all of my teachers. This shattered me, because I was quite close to some teachers and steered away from other teachers, and this meant that they would never regard me in the same way. Exactly what I was afraid of. I knew then that this was all the fault of Mrs Woods. Not even a day had passed without me hiding my scars and one person had noticed, and now everybody knew, even my teachers. I don't know what my friend said to my other friends, and I don't want to. They would probably react the same way as she did. I would be worth less in their eyes, be less to them, and I don't think I could afford that. I'd be less than nothing. I knew then that I couldn't trust anyone, not even with something I needed help with.

The trouble was, though, I didn't want help, and that became more evident when the teacher told me that if I refused to go to the counceler, she would inform her, and she would probably end up coming down to the classroom. I didn't want a fuss. I just wanted the counceler to know that I didn't want to talk to her, and that she was making me feel like shit. I even thought about emailing her telling her I was sorry to have wasted her time, but I wasn't coming. But I did go, and as I left, I told my friend sitting one desk away (I avoided getting close to them as much as I possibly could) that I wouldn't be long, that I wouldn't talk to her. When I got there, she invited me in, and I figured I should give her a chance, not scream at her before I had even judged her. Again, big mistake. I should have just left, told her, "Sorry, but I don't need this and I don't want it. Goodbye." But I lingered at the doorway and walked in. I looked on the walls where childish posters were plastered. Displayed on the shelves were an array of kids toys and little plastic figurines from things like Kinda Suprise. I felt like an idiot and a child. Immidietly, before I even spoke to her I was intimidated and felt a strong surge of passionate hatred towards her.

She started out by telling me that she knew I wasn't accepting my problem because I didn't come to her when I was supposed to. She didn't know the real reason, though, my shyness. There were too many kids there for me to just walk in there casually. Anyone who knows me for what I am(and that number is dwindeling increasingly, not that there ever was many) knows that I hate to be looked down on. I figure, though, that I will always be looked down on by people, be it adults, children, parents, siblings, peers, friends, forigners, or elderly people, I will always be less than they are. In her narrow-minded state, the counceler failed to notice this, however, and proceeded to tell me she needed to look at the scars. I asked her why, I was ready to put up a fight, and she replied saying that when a teahcer or a friend or peers notice that a student is self-harming, they are obliged to contact her and records need to be made. I nodded, understanding something clearly for the first time in a long, long while. She didn't care either, and that was her job.

I knew that this was just procedure, and it showed through her voice and bored looking facial expression that she just wanted to get it over and done with. She said that she doesn't agree with forcing me to admit to my emotions. At the time I was grateful, and nooded. But now, I realise that I was not nodding in gratefulness, but the deep knowledge that I was just wasting her time, and that she didn't really want to help me.
Even my mother, when she noticed, was not supporting, but responded with threats to send me to see someone. I saw that she was dissappointed in me, not concerned and worried. It seemed to me that she was angery that I had made her life harder, that I was just one more problem to add to her complicated life, that she didn't have time for me. I read somewhere that I couldn't do it alone, but she expected me to, and it seemed like I didn't have a choice at all. Not that I expected help or encouragement, because I knew I wouldn't get it. That's also why I hid my cuts.
To this day I suspect I have overcome the depression, and that's what it was to me. I labeled my state because I couldn't come up with any better reason as to why my usual A's dropped to C's and why I wanted to kill myself. I don't like to be labelled as an emo as my brother would have called it, just as I didn't like to be called a vegetarian when I first turned by back on meat, but I didn't want to be left feeling emotionless again, in the dark. At least it gave me some kind of clarity in my life, something to hold on to, before my life slipped away. I have the feeling that if things get bad again at home and inside of me the evil feelings will return to haunt me and slice my flesh. But that wouldn't be such a bad thing, would it? I always did enjoy the pain, if there was any at all. Secretly, I am begining to feel like this again, and it hurts, but I can't fight it. I don't have the strenght to. Not on my own.

I'm not sure if you care or not, or if you even read my post, but I am immensly grateful to have found a group of people who hopefully understand me, and that's hard to find. I know I feel better after telling this to you. You are what I needed but never had. Thank You.

[CrispyRingo]

I'm really sorry the message is so lengthy, and I understand if you don't have the time or patience to read it. Most people don't have time for me, and I'm used to it. Nevertheless, please try to asnwer my pleading, and give me some advice, suggestions or an insight, whatever you like. I don't want to see a doctor, because I know they are condecending and very judgemental from past experience. I don't want to go through that again, but at the same time I don't want depression to take over my life.

I know it's late (it's 2:42 am here), but I just can't sleep.

Thankyou for your concern, Depression Understood, and the kind souls who care about youth and people in my situation.

Yours, CrispyRingo (Amie)

[Warmsoul/Jeanie13]

Hello CrispyRingo,

Sounds like you could use people to talk with. We have a depression chat room connected with this site. Why not give it a try. Lots of understanding people that truly care and can let you know how they handle things.

Keep posting here as well, same kind of wonderful people.

Warmsoul

[CrispyRingo]

Warmsoul,

Thank you so much for your concern, the chat room sounds like exactly what I need. The only problem is that sometimes I need someone who is genuinely close to me and understands what my family is like and how it affects me. Like I said, these people usually arn't interested. I'm grateful for all the help out there, but sometimes my situation is hard to explain.

CrispyRingo

[Warmsoul/Jeanie13]

CrispyRingo,

You will be surprised by the interested and concern, even the knowledge of chatters in depression room. All I can suggest is give it a try and continue posting here.

Take care.

Warmie

[sadeyes]

reading what u have wrote is like looking in the mirror i truly feel everything u are saying and feeling with ur mum and all oof it really maybe we could help each other xx

[CrispyRingo]

SadEyes,

Thank you, I'm glad that someone finally seems to understand. My life is starting to look up, thanks to this forum and the caring souls helping me. I really hope we can lend each other a hand.

CrispyRingo