Autobiography

I don't think that anyone will read this. I honestly don't think anyone will care either. I guess this is just for me; a tool so that I don't go insane. But in the odd event someone cares to read this, I guess you should know a little bit about me.

I don't really want anyone who knows me to stumble across this and figure out all the personal stuff I hide so I wont give out my real name but you can call me Sid. I'm a sixteen year old girl who has lead a pretty lame life. One thing I will admit to right away is that I'm very sick. I've always been sick whether its mentally or physically.

(If you want to skip all of this, the last part is a summary of events).

My medical history is extensive. So far I've gotten most of the major problems fixed but sometimes they cause more problems. I was born with a complex artioventricular septal defect, more commonly known as a "hole in the heart." Its a fairly rare heart defect and had I not gotten it fixed when I was three I would have died by the time I was 5. The Doctor's did a good job repairing my heart but when I was a year and a half old, they gave me a heart catheter which caused a stroke. Now days I have the dexterity of a 7 year old on one side of my body. After my surgeries I moved down south.

I lived there happily for a few years, until I was 7. I went to a rather poor school and was always getting sick so I had to be sent home. The office staff knew me by name in that way. I refer to that time as my "Bully period" because I was a nasty little girl who would chase around the boys and punch them if they made fun of me... I hung out with boys in school and girls at home. Life was good for me. My father hardly ever left on business, no family had died yet, and I didn't have a care in the world.

July 4th, 1998. My world took a turn for the worst. We were going to move the next day. My entire perception of life came crashing down like a ton of bricks. I consider that day to be the day I lost my innocence. The day the depression set in. The reason for my lack of well being today...

Life moved on rapidly from there. Depression crept in like a dark cloud. It started off mildly, a few nights spent on the floor crying when I was in 3rd grade and advanced to the first time I seriously contemplated suicide in 6th. The first contemplation was from a number of things I suppose. I just found out that we were moving again, My mother was feeding all of her attention to my brother (who I call goldenboy because he's so good at everything he does. He gets good grades, can play any instrument, is a natural athlete, is healthy, and is just all around favorable to my parents), and I was fighting with my best friend. Things got worse really fast from there.

I moved again, now being 11 going on 12. The first few months I had no friends and I was getting the worst grades I ever got. I never got C's on report cards and had never even seen a D in my life. I eventually formed a very small group of friends whom I got very close to. I was closest to the friend who was also dealing with Depression. Why I'm not sure, but it helped in a way I suppose. By the middle of the year I heard that I would be moving to Alaska. I cried a lot more after that. I recall writing in my Journal how much I wanted to die as I was finally settling into life there. The first of several attempts. I swallowed almost a full bottle of Celexa, the depression medication I was on, and a few advil. Nothing happened unfortunately or atleast nothing that we could see. (I'll explain later). But around that time I spent a lot of time in my closet crying and I started cutting and burning myself. Nothing to extreme. The scratches were numerous but made with a travel sized dental pick so they hardly scared... The burns were not extensive either, just a few little circles from matches and hot lighter heads.

Alaska was a harsh change. I had been fairly sheltered from drugs and sex by choice. I didn't hang out with those type of people because I knew I wouldn't get into anything that way. But upon moving here, the world of sex, drugs, and alcohol was inevitable. (Alcohol was not a concern. I had started stealing my parents beer in 7th grade). Most of my friends were pot heads, almost everyone I knew was an Alcoholic, and Only about 10 or 15% of our school still had their virginity. I did start Cheerleading though, a sport I never saw myself in but a good change for me. Unfortunately, it wasn't good enough. I attempted again, swallowing a variety of pills, whatever I could get my hands on. I just got sick and had to miss school for a week. At the end of 8th grade I started smoking and sneaking out and drinking more. I remember the first time I had hard alcohol was at this 24 year old guy Dave's apartment. . My friend, who was once sweet and innocent was making out with him in exchange for belvedere vodka, Parrot bay pineapple, and cigarettes. This is where I get my love of Vodka I suppose. I thrashed my system that night too by taking some of his little pink antidepressants and eating asprin like it was candy. At the end of the summer I visited my "sister" and best friend back home. We went through some trials and what not but I remember falling for her older half brother. Way older. I was 13 and he was 17 almost 18. Apparently he had liked me as well. I think this marked the official start of the guys 3 1/2 years older then me liking me (It happened once before with a guy who is still trying to get with me to this day).

High school was no better then 8th grade. My friends who were clean in middle school were now smoking regularly and a few others were on their way to motherhood. Rapidly moving on, not even cheerleading was keeping me straight. I was sneaking out to smoke with friends almost every night and occasionally drink a little with the guy I liked. It was a way of life then. Practicing every day wasn't helping, especially since I had very little experience and wasn't very good. Friendships rose and fell. I found myself in a pseudo relationship with a senior. A sweet guy at the time, we went out once and hung out several other times. Needless to say it fell apart fast, as did all other relationships that start of the year. With cheerleading, grades, men, friends, and families my depression worsened. Cuts got deeper (now with aid of a razor), burns got hotter, Icing got much worse, and the amout of pills got larger. I believe I tried to commit suicide atleast 3 times that year. In November I awoke one morning and started throwing up black blood. My stomach had gotten so bad from all the pills that I was taking that accidently doubling up on my anti inflammatory medicine once gave me a stomach ulcer. That caused me to be sick the week of basketball cheerleading tryouts. I ended up on a pseudo JV team. I wanted to die. I ended up going out with the first kid I considered myself to be "in love with." I loved him, but I don't think I was ever really truly in love with him. You know the sort. The relationship caused me problems. I was so scared about him finding out I was a depressed self injurer that it actually caused me to cut and burn and scratch and pop pills more. It was no good. I broke up with him at the end of that summer.

Moving faster, the next year (10th) was no good. I was heart broken when Brandon could move on so fast and say he loved my best friend a week after we broke up. I attempted again, cutting so deeply on my arm that I was numb and swallowing pills. My parents found out and fed me a gross syrup to make me throw up. It was the last time I'd attempted. I bounced from my friendly councilor to a new one. The new one was okay, she told me a lot about my personality and the reason why I am the way I am. Made sense. I tried to stop self injuring but it was usually a futile attempt. Towards the end of the year I realized I was getting very fat. I started off the year before at 119 or 120. I had become 140. Almost 20 pounds. I lived 3 or 4 months off of almost nothing but rice cakes, low fat-low calorie oatmeal, and water. I walked between 4 and 8 miles every day and did stationary work at night. My parents were never really around so they had no clue how bad I had gotten. Probably because my weight only dropped to 124 pounds, a loss of 16. I was forced to eat when I visited my other friend back home and even though we swam a lot and drank laxative tea, I gained a few back.

Now, I maintain between 127 and 133. I cry everytime I get past 133. I didn't realize it then, probably because I was preoccupied with my head in the toilet, but I was an anorectic with bulling tendencies. I'm better now, but I still step on the scale every morning and every time I go to the bathroom. I still cut but I try not to. I have a boyfriend now, another who is 19. (Collectively he is the 6th guy who is 3 or so years older then me). My friendships with people back home are fading, and a lot of people here hate me. My depression is lingering but I'm trying to figure out how to deal on my own.

In summary: I was born with a heart defect. The medical procedure done when I was 1 1/2 gave me a stroke which still effects me today. I started with Depression when I was 7, got diagnosed at 12 (the same year I started drinking) and was in therapy from 13 on. I self injure and I'm a recovering from a slight eating disorder. I haven't had a hard life, just a one that I don't know how to handle...