I am my scars.

70. That’s the amount of scars I am able to count currently from self-inflicted cuts. There has been more cuts than that for sure, but some have healed and faded while others remain. I am not going to lie, my most recent cuts which were the worst they have ever been were almost a month ago. I was actually scared that I went too far. It started after a change in medication. One of the doctors under my psychiatrist that I had seen for the first time increased the dosage of my antidepressant. Against my better judgment, I did what I was instructed. I never liked the meds because I was tired all the time, I had no appetite and I was numb. I was numb but so pained at the same time. I was getting worse the longer I took them and one day, the emotions that I had suppressed for so long came crashing over me like a wave. I was drowning in my thoughts and I didn’t want to end my life, I just wanted to stop the pain from taking over internally. That’s the thing about cutting, you have to figure out the reason as to why you do it in order to overcome the urge. I do it because sometimes my heart aches so bad these days that I just want to feel another type of pain externally.

Losing my cousin really broke my heart and I’m trying to cope. I am torn between wanting to distract myself but not wanting to suppress the grief because that will only make it worse for myself. I am trying to find my passions again and I am trying to put me first. I am proud of myself though because since I have been off the antidepressants, I can really see my growth. I noticed the difference instantly. My mood was instantly better and I just felt brighter like my light had been dimmed on the medications but now, it was starting to shine bright again. I was able to finally focus on my goals and the steps I needed to take to proceed. I finally registered for classes; I start in two weeks. Losing my cousin really made me realize that we do not have as much time as we think we do, life is so short. I couldn’t keep putting my life on hold thinking there will always be more time. But in order to continue to go to school, I had to sacrifice my job. I hope I didn’t make the wrong choice but I feel like I need to do what I am meant to do. I am tired of temporary jobs when I can be working towards my end goal. I just wish my family supported my dreams.

Anyways, I am participating in a clinical research study. I’ll discuss that more in another post because the study doesn’t pertain to this. But I was speaking with the doctor and going through the medical questions and of course, mental health always comes up. We spoke about my depression and the nurse told her to ask about my major. I told her I was getting my Masters in Applied Behavioral Analysis and she reminded me that my firsthand experience and my ability to overcome so much has shown me my purpose. She said I am meant to guide people and that the behavioral health field lacks the necessary amount of doctors which is true. I never had anyone that understood what I was going through growing up. I was always forced to remain silent and fight my demons alone behind closed doors. Silence is a killer, I will tell you that. I hope I can be to those what I needed. I want to inspire people to keep fighting. I always say depression is an ongoing war, the battles never end. You will lose some and you will also win some. Focus on the wins.

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