10/9/17

  • Generalized Anxiety Disorder
  • Panic Disorder (Episodic Paroxysmal Anxiety) without Agoraphobia
  • Major Depressive Disorder, Recurrent, Moderate
  • Complex PTSD

I am a series of diagnoses that claim my identity. I’m told that I am not my diagnoses, however I look in the mirror and that is all I see. I see the girl that remembers being in first grade and showing all of the signs of depression but everyone saying its just because i’m shy. I see the girl struggling with a eating disorder her freshman year of high school begging anyone who would listen to help. I see the girl that self harmed for four years, was clean for a year, and now feels pain every time she sees something sharp. I see fifteen years of physical abuse, nineteen years of emotional abuse, and endless nights spent crying.

I was young when it all started, so young I don’t even remember this not happening. I’ve been told this has most likely be going on my entire life, that being the reason I never knew any different. Truthfully, I don’t remember exactly when I realized something was wrong, but I believe it was right around middle school. I remember being in fifth grade when I attempted suicide, obviously not succeeding. From that point on I didn’t attempt until my freshman year of high school, the time when every ask for help, was answered with “We must call your parents”. Nobody bothered to listen when I said they were the problem. I was a girl lost in the system, with no one seeing the extent of the pain, only seeing the outside shell. It was my freshman year of high school when a girl told me what cutting was and explained it as something that would solve all of my problems. She didn’t tell me it is as addicting as a drug addiction.

I was bullied for multiple years, so the idea of going away to college was a dream of mine. What I didn’t understand was the cost to go away to college. Unfortunately the closest I was going to get to this dream was a community college a hour away. While this was better than nothing, it was not what I had longed for. I failed my first year of college, and while I am not proud of it, I wont deny it. My second semester here was when everyone told me to go see someone, and what I went through was not normal. At this time I didn’t even know what I went through was abuse, I just thought my parents were hard on me. It took months for me to understand that what happened was abuse, by not only my parents but others. I’m still working through this but I have see things much different than when I started.

What I never understood was that my mental health is a full time job. I try to work and go to school and I admit that I am not doing well. I’m struggling and still trying to take care of myself and not slip down into the pit I was in for so many years. I try to keep myself about the feelings of suicide and pain, even though most nights I can’t help but to slip into that same pit, all over again.

Every night I look into the mirror and see the girl who has depression in her eyes, fear in her entire soul, and pain in ways nobody understands. Every night my mind still tries to slip into the pit where I would love nothing more than suicide, and would love nothing more than to have never been born. I’m learning how to live with this, how to fight it, and how to cope. Some days I do well, some days I still slip up.

I am Cassidy, but I have Generalized anxiety disorder, panic disorder, Major depression, and Complete Post traumatic stress disorder, and I am not ashamed.

 

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