College

College, the best years of your life, or so I have been told.

Going off to college I hoped that things would be different, that I could get past the depression and everything all on my own, however, it obviously didnt work out that way. First semester of school I was doing well, I wasnt happy, but I wasnt harming myself so things were fine for the time being. I was going through the motions, hanging out with the friends I had made, making sure to not let the fake smile slip, crying myself to sleep most nights, I wished I were dead, but I kept going anyways.

I waited till after Christmas break to tell my parents about everything that was going on, in an email, as far away as possible. I was so ashamed, so upset. Our floor had a spare room and I locked myself in it that night and sobbed like I had never sobbed before, I was a failure, I ruin peoples lives. My parents wanted to come get me that night, but I knew that wasnt what I wanted, I didnt want to let myself give up on school, I had to prove to myself that I could do it, even through the inner battles I was struggling with. My parents let me stay in school when I promised to see the campus counselor. I saw her every week for the rest of the year.

After I came home for spring break and they started me on my first anti depressant, it had been nine straight months without self harming. It took one week on those meds to start cutting again. I remember standing in the hallway after I had cut myself again for the first time and just feeling pure relief. I looked at my friend who was going through the same battle and just smiled. Needless to say, she knew what I had done.

While everyone was going out to party and having the time of their lives, I was spending most my time doing homework and spending time in the bathroom, the only privacy I had to hurt myself. I would sit and break apart razors. It was a complete need, I started building up the amount of razors I had, x-acto knives from my art class, scalpels from biology, scissors, anything. I had to make sure I had something at all times, cutting every chance I had.

I started to give my roomate my blades, I knew I wasnt able to get rid of them myself. I even had to "check out" my scissors and x-acto blades from her when I needed them for school work. That probably should have made me feel worse, more pathetic, but really it helped. It was nice to have someone to hold me accountable, someone who I could talk to about it when I wanted to do it.

I know it is stupid, but if you are going through this type of thing you really arent alone. But at the same time, you cant get through it alone either. Dont allow it to take over your life, talk to someone, its so hard, beyond hard, but after you do you will feel better about it.

None of you are alone, if you have no one, you have me. Dont let your college years be the worst years, make them the best they can be.