Acceptance

Ever since I was a child I have had a life of unhappy endings. I know that I could have a lot worse, but that does not make me feel any better, and as horrible as this may sound it does not make me any more greatful for my shitty life. Sometimes when life gets me down I call my sister because she is the only person who felt most of the pain that I have felt. I also tend to call my best friend because sadly she has had a pretty shitty life as well. It’s like we find comfort in knowing we aren’t the only ones. When I was in my early teens I remember finding happiness in drugs and alcohol, or so I thought. I remember when I started drinking. I would just sit there taking shots of what ever was available until I eventually threw up from alcohol consumption, and then wait until four in the morning when I climbed in my bedroom window so my Dad didn’t know I left. Eventually drinking was nothing. I hardly felt a thing anymore when I drank. I talked perfectly, walked in straight lines, and climbed in my window without falling out. That also meant it stopped masking my pain. I drank more and more. On nights when no one had parties I would sit in my room and try to drink myself to sleep, but nothing. Eventually I heard of these amazing pills call “Molly”. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I was worried. I saw what people were like when they let drugs become to important. They let it take over their lives and eventually they don’t even remember the person they used to be. I went to a party the first time I ever popped pills, aside from painkillers me and my friends used to steal from her drunk Grandma. Some guy I didn’t even know handed me 2 pills and told me if I take I feel the best I ever had in my life. I held them tightly in my hand walked into the bathroom and opened my fist and just looked at them. My first thought was, “What if it is date rape?”. Then I thought what if I take this and never want to stop. What if I forget the person my family loves. What if I am no longer my families little girl anymore. Then I realized I wasn’t, and I hadn’t been her in a long time. They thought I was, but I had been pretending to be their little happy girl for years. I wasn’t happy at all. So I figured all I had to loose was my counterfeit self I had only kept being for my family. So I knew in that moment it was ok. I took it. You know what I was actually happy. Imagine that every feeling you have is intensified by like a hundered. You finally have that feeling that you haven’t had the joy of having since you were a child. You feel alive, like absouletly nothing can stand in your way. I’m pretty sure people knew I was “rolling”, because they kept commenting on how my eyes looked crazy. Your eyes get super dialated when you take Molly. Anyway by the time I got home the pill had pretty much worn off. I was pretty cranky. Nearly everything bothered me. I ended up calling up a friend and she said I could take more or just smoke some weed to relax my self so I smoked. After that pills had became my best friend. Every time I was with friends I was I high. When I wasn’t with friends I was usually high too. So I was pretty much always high or drunk. My Dad finally figured out some of what was going on. He knew about the sneaking out and going to parties with guys and people way older than me. He up and made the decision to move. His plan worked pretty well. I pretty much stopped doing all drugs except smoking weed, and drinking every so often. After a while I made some new friends who didn’t do the things I used to do, so the amount I did the things I used to do lowered over time. Eventually I stopped everything and spent all my time with my three friends Megan, Andrew, and Thomas. After a series of unfourtante events I spent nearly all my time with my best friend Megan. For a while I was somewhat content, but I felt like something was missing from my life. So I moved to Chicago with my mom. I made some friends dated a guy. I felt like I was living a normal teenage life, but that wasn’t enough for me. I didn’t just want normalcy. I was regretting my decision of moving with my Mom. I had lived with my Dad my whole entire life. I missed my sister I had never been so far from her. I missed my Grandparent’s and my best friend. My relationship was bullshit. I didn’t even love the guy, but for some reason I stayed longer than I should have. My friends were all fake. I just wasn’t happy. At all. Eventually I left my boyfriend and started talking to my current boyfriend, Edward. He was the first guy that held me in his arms and I felt like he truly wanted me there and no one else ever again. He wanted to spend all of his time with me. He said he was in love with me and I knew he meant it. The past two years with this boy have been crazy. I dropped out of higschool, moved in to my boyfriends parents, moved into my stepsisters, moved back into my Mom’s, back into my boyfriend’s parents, back to my stepsister’s, and am now back to my boyfriend’s parents. I also got my GED. My boyfriend and I broke up countless times and got back together, We both slept with other people and still stayed together through all our mistakes. Pretty much every person who I ever trusted betrayed me. So needless to say my life hasn’t been great. I have realized how much I hate my life and myself for various reason. The other day I decided to except the fact that I have depression. When I was younger I never wanted to tell my Dad because we couldn’t afford the doctor visits and medication and therapist visits.The other day I called my Mom and told her, “Mom I know you don’t believe me, but i think I have depression. I need the medical card.” So I made the decision to talk to my doctor. I told my Mom some bullshit story about how he wants me to be more active and that was it. Which was true he did say that, but he always said I am depressed. I don’t want my family or my boyfriend to know that I have depressionand that I have to take pills and talk to a person to help make me normal. They knew I thought I was depressed, but it is different when I am. I accept that I have depression. I accept that I have never have had a normal life. I accept that I have a hard time handling my issues. I accept that when I put my trust and love into someone and they break it even the slightest it hurts me to the point of breaking down, and when I break down it is nearly impossible for me to pick back up my peices. I hope now that I have accepted some of my problems I can work toward bettering my mental health. I love the people that are important in my life, and I want to be happy for them.