I don't know what to feel anymore. I want to feel numb to most things said, because it seems better than feeling the pain of rejection. I shouldn't worry about rejection because I just came out of a relationship...but that doesn't seem to matter. I go without word...without acknowledgement..without any decency of being at least a friend. I shouldn't worry about what he or they think. But I do...because the feeling was never lost it was just forgotten and it re-emerged after some time.
It's not just him but it's them. i feel rejected by those most close to me...like no matter what I do...it's never good enough.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Friday, February 1, 2008
An every day Struggle.
For my speech class last semester I had to deliver a speech about a social issue. For a week, I went back and forth between subjects to speak about. I thought I should do something silly because I knew many people would be speaking about something serious. After I realized that I could not find sufficient research or resources for this speech topic, I then decided to write about something serious, something I had experience with and overall knowledge about. I thought and thought, and then the idea came to me. Speak about something that is quite touchy, but it is something I know a lot about.
Teen Suicide. The leading factor of teenage suicide is depression. Something I know about first hand. Many people knew I felt sad and lonely when I first moved to Elk Grove, but what many people do not know is that I was not ONLY sad and lonely. I was all out depressed. Every day in August and September seemed to get worse, and I would fall farther and farther each day. Moving to a new place seems cold and unwanting. My family never seemed to care that I spent night crying and feeling a pain worse than anything. In the beginning of the Semester, I did not know anyone and spent much of the time between classes alone. I was quiet in class because I felt as if everyone was judging me. With no one to talk to at home and no one to talk to at school, I felt isolated. The feeling of being alone in a crowded room was magnified ten fold. My only outlet was my boyfriend at the time and my best friend, but they could only help so much. My boyfriend at the time worked full time and odd hours at that. Therefore, when we talked on the phone time was precious. I tried to not talk about how badly I felt because I did not him to feel badly for me. I did how ever have a few breakdowns. I could not help it. My best friend talked to me as much as she could, but with school, homework, and her crazy work schedule, it was hard, and again time was precious.
Further into September and October I was miserable, the occasional trip home to Sonora was not enough to pull me out of the "funk" I was in. Somehow, I think it made me fall deeper. I started questioning, "Why live?" If I am so miserable, why continue to go nowhere? At that point, I knew something was wrong. I could not figure out what it was that made me cry for hours on end. I realized I started detaching myself from family and some friends. It took awhile to figure out what it was that was bothering me. I suffered from depression. During the depression, before the realization, I contemplated suicide. Me, bright, cheery, me considered that life was not worth living. I am glad that I caught the signs before it was too late. The only person I ever told was my boyfriend at the time. He could tell something was wrong, and he helped best he could. I thought he of all people deserved to know.
After I realized I was depressed, I decided that no matter what it took I was going to move back home to Sonora. The fact that I even considered death, scared me and I knew that I needed to pull myself out, and having hope of a better life made the pain less severe. I never told anyone else about my suicidal thoughts because I was afraid they would change their perspective about me. These past months, I have come to realize life is too precious to waste. The slight glimmer of hope helped me to be the person I once was. However, she may not know it, my friend Jilda Lamb was a major influence. She suffered Anorexia nervosa and it made through. I reread her essays about her illness and it somehow it helped me through my depression. After I gave my speech about teen suicide, I thought about Jilda and how she said that writing about her illness helped her make it through to recovery. I decided to write down my story, or rather a summary of it as an ode to her. Or maybe I am writing it so maybe that day when someone I know or maybe not know, suffer depression or suicidal thoughts that possibly this can help them. I still struggle every day with depression, but writing my story helps everyday.
All my love,Melissa
Teen Suicide. The leading factor of teenage suicide is depression. Something I know about first hand. Many people knew I felt sad and lonely when I first moved to Elk Grove, but what many people do not know is that I was not ONLY sad and lonely. I was all out depressed. Every day in August and September seemed to get worse, and I would fall farther and farther each day. Moving to a new place seems cold and unwanting. My family never seemed to care that I spent night crying and feeling a pain worse than anything. In the beginning of the Semester, I did not know anyone and spent much of the time between classes alone. I was quiet in class because I felt as if everyone was judging me. With no one to talk to at home and no one to talk to at school, I felt isolated. The feeling of being alone in a crowded room was magnified ten fold. My only outlet was my boyfriend at the time and my best friend, but they could only help so much. My boyfriend at the time worked full time and odd hours at that. Therefore, when we talked on the phone time was precious. I tried to not talk about how badly I felt because I did not him to feel badly for me. I did how ever have a few breakdowns. I could not help it. My best friend talked to me as much as she could, but with school, homework, and her crazy work schedule, it was hard, and again time was precious.
Further into September and October I was miserable, the occasional trip home to Sonora was not enough to pull me out of the "funk" I was in. Somehow, I think it made me fall deeper. I started questioning, "Why live?" If I am so miserable, why continue to go nowhere? At that point, I knew something was wrong. I could not figure out what it was that made me cry for hours on end. I realized I started detaching myself from family and some friends. It took awhile to figure out what it was that was bothering me. I suffered from depression. During the depression, before the realization, I contemplated suicide. Me, bright, cheery, me considered that life was not worth living. I am glad that I caught the signs before it was too late. The only person I ever told was my boyfriend at the time. He could tell something was wrong, and he helped best he could. I thought he of all people deserved to know.
After I realized I was depressed, I decided that no matter what it took I was going to move back home to Sonora. The fact that I even considered death, scared me and I knew that I needed to pull myself out, and having hope of a better life made the pain less severe. I never told anyone else about my suicidal thoughts because I was afraid they would change their perspective about me. These past months, I have come to realize life is too precious to waste. The slight glimmer of hope helped me to be the person I once was. However, she may not know it, my friend Jilda Lamb was a major influence. She suffered Anorexia nervosa and it made through. I reread her essays about her illness and it somehow it helped me through my depression. After I gave my speech about teen suicide, I thought about Jilda and how she said that writing about her illness helped her make it through to recovery. I decided to write down my story, or rather a summary of it as an ode to her. Or maybe I am writing it so maybe that day when someone I know or maybe not know, suffer depression or suicidal thoughts that possibly this can help them. I still struggle every day with depression, but writing my story helps everyday.
All my love,Melissa
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