New Beginning...

Wow. So, I happened to have a friend who has a blog on this website. And I saw a link for it and remembered that once upon a time, I too had a blog on here. I tried to log on and sure enough, it's still here. The internet is an intruiging thing. How you can post something and forget about it for years, then go back and it's still in the same place. I read through the few blogs I posted back in High School (I graduated almost 5 years ago), and my heart sinks. And my eyes well with tears. I remember how alone I felt. How my world seemed so bleak, how no matter what I did, those feelings of hopelessness and emptiness would never go away. And up until about 2 1/2 months ago, they never went away. In fact, they worsened. I suffered in pain, no, in mental agony for five long years. And the truth is, I've had feelings of emptiness and lonliness since the young age of around six years old. When my grandma passed away at age twelve, the feelings worsened further. And as I stumbled across the realization that I was a lesbian around the same age my grandma passed away, it continued to worsen at a frightening pace of speed. I felt more alone than I ever thought to be possible. And yet, just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, it did. As a 'brief' update, I finally did approach my parents about the depression I had fallen deep into, and came out to them at the same time. I was relieved when I was overwhelmed with love and support from them both. They immediately sought out help for me and support groups to help us all "cope" with my being gay. They were there for me through everything and I mean everything. They have never once left my side. I ended up trying to commit suicide for the first time the summer after I graduated high school. All this time, even though I was going to counseling and taking medications (which ended up becoming a long list of medicines that didn't work for me), I still trusted no one and continued to put up that happy yet fake "clown" face. It was the only way I knew to cope. I briefly began doing self-injury, which thankfully was only short-term. In high school I was a fairly public figure and couldn't risk being "caught" with cuts on my arms or wrists. It would've collided with the happy image I had so finely tuned and crafted in order to fool all those around me. Once I started college, I discovered a new coping skill--alcohol. And I ran with it. This ended up turning into a serious drinking career that lasted all of nine months. I began drinking at LEAST four nights a week, if not more, every time blacking out or passing out and this was halted to a stop with a second suicide attempt that even managed to surprise me. I have no memory of about four days. I O.D.'d on my medicine and as a result had three seizures, was found unconscious in my dorms, and was rushed to the hospital where I stayed in CCU for three days. I was lucky to survive that incident. This happened in the beginning of the spring term my freshman year of college, and my parents made the decision that it was best for me to drop my classes for the rest of the year and move home to figure things out. I began attending AA meetings and began a sober life. A few months later, I ended my relationship with my first love. It was difficult but it was the best thing for both of us, as we had dreams that led us in different directions. I still remain in touch with her today, thankfully. That summer, I became certified as an NREMT-B and decided to try and follow my dream of becoming a firefighter paramedic. Less than a year later, I ended up in another relationship that grabbed ahold of me and I became entangled in a life that was so perfect at first and later turned into a toxic relationship. I loved this woman with an intensity that I had never before felt and couldn't imagine spending my life without her. A year and a half into the relationship, it had finally taken its toll and I made an incredibly difficult decision to leave. I had to get ME back. I had to take care of myself, and in the relationship, I had always put my needs last. I moved back in with my parents and finally got a job as an EMT. However, all through college and during my relationship with this woman, I never took my medicine and if I did, I didn't take it as recommended. So, I began working seventy-two hour shifts and after 3 months, I had a mental breakdown and attempted suicide for the third time. And two months later, I made a fourth attempt. I had my "clown" face mastered and no one could see through it. I managed to convince people that I had made stupid choices and that I had learned my lesson. By this point, I was so far down that I no longer saw any hope or any light. I was convinced I would die by my own hands at some point. It wasn't a possiblity, it was a matter of when.

Now, it's incredibly late, I'm exhausted, but I will return soon to continue writing about my journey through life. If you're hooked to what I've written thus far (which by the way is all factual information about what I have been through), then you'll be back to read more.