After my breakdown, my parents’ started to get me therapy. I didn’t last long because my father didn’t appreciate the therapist pointing out his drinking problem or the fact that my parents’ used me in their tug of war match. So after just a few sessions, therapy was over for me and I was left to deal on my own. The therapist’s remarks didn’t stop my parent’s behavior of course and I was still being used as their pawn in their little game. At some point, I refused to play along and just began playing by my own rules.
I went from being an honor roll student to a child who was barely passing her classes. Much like when they didn’t acknowledge my honor roll status, they didn’t acknowledge my failing status either. What I didn’t realize at the time was I had gone manic and not only was I having breakdowns at home and failing school, but I was ruining friendships as well. Good friendships, people I had known most of my life. I was known as the trouble maker in school and was getting into a lot of fights and then…..the hypersexuality kicked in. That was the hardest part to overcome as an adult. I was called all sorts of names and at the time everyone thought I was seeking the love and attention I wasn’t getting at home. In part, that may be true, but knowing now what I know combined with everything else, I wasn’t just a teenager acting out, I was bipolar and there was no one to get me help. I was fighting constantly with my Mom and when I wasn’t fighting with her I was locking myself in my room to avoid her. When she’d get ready to go out drinking, I’d sigh in relief because it meant I didn’t have to deal with her anymore.
I began sneaking out and going to parties and ruining even more friendships along the way. People just didn’t understand I was sick and I wasn’t meaning to hurt them, it was just happening. I needed someone to save me and instead everyone was walking out of my life and leaving me alone.
I remember one summer, I was all alone, most of my friendships severed. I sat alone, crying out of desperation. I had never felt this kind of feeling before. It was like everything around me had turned black and the darkness was closing in on me. I realized I had no one to help me and no one was there for me and all I wanted to do was die. I called a friend, one of the only ones’ I had left and cried to her. She didn’t know what to say as most kids don’t and she didn’t know if I was serious so it was ignored. I don’t blame her for this. She just had no clue what to do to help me.
That would be the very first time I would attempt suicide. It’s hard for me to keep my attempts in order. I know what I’ve done. But I believe this was the time I tried to overdose on my mom’s sleeping pills. When I told her and my guidance counselor at school, they both ignored it and again brushed it under the rug. I was put in some class for children with alcoholic parents and troubled homes and that was the end of it. When in reality I should have been taken to the hospital.
I can’t urge you enough, if you have a child crying out for help to get them the help they need. Hiding it will only make it worse and they will only suffer longer.
Until next time….