My story.

So tonight I was feeling really low. I've been battling depression since 8th grade, and honestly it's the worst. I hate feeling trapped, like there's nothing I can do. That's how clinical depression is, I suppose. Especially when you aren't medicated because I fear that if I ever have to stop taking the medication it'll make me worse. But anyway, it's been an on and off struggle. (Depression usually is) And I swore time and time again that I was better. No, I'm not. Yeah, a smile can hide a whole lot. But really, I'm dying inside.

I started using self harm as a method to cope with my depression in 7th grade, even though I wasn't diagnosed with depression until 8th. I would scratch myself to relieve bits of anxiety. At that point, it was a way to release energy. Stupid, I suppose. But it worked. I was a pretty happy girl in 7th grade, just living life. Other than my extreme anxiety and sometimes scary mood swings, I was alright. In 8th grade, though, everything changed. For the first part of my 8th grade year I was having a tough time with one of my close friendships. My urge to hurt myself came back, but it was only a dull nagging. I poked myself with safety pins a few times for quick release. Still nothing major or worrying...yet. Then in January I had my my first real boyfriend. I really thought I was in love. How silly of me. When the relationship ended only about 2 months later, I spiraled downward. I was so unsure of how to deal with it. The urges came back, but this time stronger. The first thing I did was stop eating. I'm not sure why, but it made me feel in control of the situation. I just did not want food. The self harm came slowly, gradually until I got braver. Once I reached that point, I smashed a plate just to get the shards of glass. I sat there on the kitchen floor, cut myself, and cried until my arm was covered in marks. They didn't bleed much, but it was enough. Sure a teacher or two noticed, but I lied and got away with it. It even got to the point where I seriously considered suicide. I even had a note written. I threw it away, so I can't really remember what it said. All I know is that it was covered in tears. I did those horrible things to myself until about June (which in total was about 3 1/2 months) until things started looking up. I recovered for that period of time.

My freshman year of high school self harm really didn't play a part in my life. Sure things were rough at certain parts, but somehow self harm wasn't something I used to cope. Even my sophomore year I was clean for the most part. Even though periods of depression came up, I managed to deal with it better. I really thought I'd recovered.

Then all of a sudden the summer before junior year was a nightmare. As you've read before, I had a miscarriage. Not only that, I had a lot of issues with my baby's father. After I miscarried, and after he put me through so much bullshit I went through a horrible period of depression. It lasted for a few weeks, but the scars are there forever. For days I could not get out of bed. I was physically sick and in so much pain. I turned to burning myself first, even asking others to burn me for "fun" when they didn't even realize it was a form of destruction to myself. Then the cutting began again. This time, though, I got brave. I melted the razor blades out of a disposable razor. At first I was scared, but in so much emotional pain that once I drug the blade across my skin I knew I'd made a mistake. It felt good, but it hurt. I didn't even feel it at first. In fact, I didn't even realize how deep I'd cut. One of the cuts in particular bled for two days. I was horrified. So afraid I'd have to go the hospital and tell my mom. Thankfully, it stopped. I had cut on my upper thigh, so the pain was unbearable for a few days. Once they healed, I swore I'd never do it again.

And I didn't, until about a week ago. Things were overwhelming. That's another thing I hate about depression; just when you think you're getting better it all goes to shit. I had thrown my old razors away in an effort to fully recover. But unfortunately razors and a lighter were easy access for me. I got a new set of blades in no time and started my devious work on my skin. I sat and cut, and now I'd guess there are over 20 cuts on my thighs. They hurt. I want to stop. I want to get better and not want to die anymore.

After a depressing Facebook status tonight, though, a girl I barely talked to messaged me telling me I deserve better and that she's there for me. She will never know how much that meant, because tonight I was seriously considering the way I could end it. She saved me.

I honestly pray for the strength to recover and not have to fake my happiness. But I still stand strong. As strong as I can. I deal with depression, anxiety, and bipolar disorder. But I still smile, because with some strength I know I can get better.

It feels good to share my story.

XOXO Angie :*

My daughter.

Hi guys. So I know I said before I wanted to come on here with a more positive blog entry, but it doesn't look like tonight will be the time. Honestly, it isn't negative. But on the other hand it really isn't all that positive either. So tonight I got the courage to tell two of my close friends about my miscarriage back in June. In three days, it will be three months since I lost my child. It's still hard on me, but looking at it now I've come to peace with it. I realized while I may not have the support of the father, I have my best friends who stand behind me one hundred percent and that means the world to me. Talking about it really made me realize a lot. For one, it made me proud to have been strong enough to talk about her. (and yes, I refer to my unborn child as 'her' because as part of the recovery process I've picked a gender for my child) It's still hard to believe that I was supposed to be a mother. That in about 7 months I would have given birth. At this point, I've come to terms with the fact that I would have been a single mother. Why? Because I can no longer tolerate Patrick in my life. He's been nothing but horrible for the most part, especially when I was pregnant. We don't talk anymore. I can't bear to look at him. It's too much. I love my daughter. She was never born, but she still lives on in my heart. I know now that I have to stay strong because I need to remember her. Her father surely won't. He's too absorbed in himself and we can't get along. Even for her. If she had been born, maybe we'd try harder. But as of now he's just a bitter reminder. Is it bad or selfish that I want to blame him? He made me so stressed while I was pregnant that I attribute him to part of the reason why I miscarried. I know it sounds horrible, but it's how I feel. And don't get me wrong, I still love him with everything in me. A first love never dies, because if it does then it was never really a first love. But he treats me so horribly that I realized I deserve better. He wouldn't have made a good father. She never would have carried his name. So from now I live for me and what she would have been. And every month on the date I will do something special. No matter what it is. I love you, Annelies. Watch over me in heaven.

I'll carry you.

Dear angel, .


It's only been a little over two weeks since I've lost you, but mommy feels the need to write something special for you. My heart aches each and every day for you, little one. I only carried you for a few weeks in my belly. Did you know that? To you, it probably felt a lot shorter. Or maybe longer. I'll never know . I bet you felt safe in there. Safe and warm. I used to talk to you. Did you ever hear me? Did you know the sound of my voice? Probably not. You were too small and undeveloped. Although, I'd like to believe you heard me pray and cry for you. Do you remember your daddy's voice? He never talked to you, but he talked around you. Daddy wasn't very nice to mommy at first, but when he found out about you he became a lot nicer. When I told him that I lost you, I'm not sure if he was sad or not. But he cares, darling, so don't you worry. He wasn't sure if he wanted you, and neither was I. I'm so sorry, baby. We were going to get rid of you, but I couldn't do it. I wanted you after awhile, I really did. I guess God needed you more than I did. He needed a beautiful angel up there with him watching over the world. Maybe both of you knew I couldn't handle you yet down here. Afterall I'm only sixteen. But I would have taken care of you. Your father and I would have stuck together, just for you. Daddy and I are friends now. We laugh and smile together. Unfortunatly, we can't love each other like mommies and daddies are supposed to do. But we still laugh and smile together. I bet you smile down just as big as I do when you see us getting along. Everytime I'm with him, I think of you. We don't say much about you though, I think it pains the both of us to know we lost someone so dear. Even if neither of us realized it, a large part of us was taken when we lost you. Even if you were only a month developed, you were ours. I'm trying my hardest to be strong for all three of us. You wouldn't want to see your mom sad, I'm sure. Dad doesn't like it either. I love both of you though, so I put on a strong face. It's so hard for everyone down here to understand why this bothers me so much. The short time you were inside of me changed me, love. It made me grow up, and it gave me an entirely new outlook. Everyday I wonder what kind of person you would have turned out to be. I have a funny feeling you would have been a beautiful baby girl. Your name would have been Annelies Marie. I'm not quite sure what last name you would have taken on. I wonder what color your eyes would have been, and the type of hair you'd have. Would have have big brown eyes like your dad? Or smaller hazel eyes like me? Would you get mad easily like your father? Or have more patience like me? Would you be smart? What kind of games would you have liked to play? I wonder what it would have felt like to hold you and kiss you. But heaven got the chance to see you before we did. There's so many things I'll continue to wonder, but there's one thing I'm completely sure of; I grew to love you more than anything else. I need to turn my life around, and I'll do it for you because you never got the chance to exist. Mommy is going to keep fighting each and everyday. I love you, and keep smiling down from heaven on your parents and we'll see you one day.


Love forever, Mom. .


So yes, as you can all see that was a letter to the child I unfortunatly miscarried on June 25, 2012. A day after my birthday. I guess he/she wanted to hold on long enough for me to have a nice birthday. At least that's the way I'd like to think of it. I know most of you reading this will have a lot of negative comments towards this for two reasons. One; I am only sixteen years old and two; I carried the baby for a a little less than a month. Either way, until you're pregnant you will not understand how your outlook changes, even at a young age. I originally was going to get an abortion, because the father and I were not together and the baby was concieved by complete carelessness on both of our parts. Neither of us were mentally or financially stable enough to give our child a good life. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I could not end the life of an innocent child just because of my own mistakes. Now I'm not even going to get into the subject of abortion too deeply because it is so controversial. I felt the need to get this out because my life has taken a horrible turn since the last time I wrote. I gave up on finding strength in God, turned to drugs and self harm once again, and obviously had relations with an ex which resulted in the pregnancy. I do want to turn my life around, but it's been so damn hard for me. My blogs usually aren't this negative, but this one has to be. Simply because the bitterness is crucial to the recovery process. I want to get better, and I hope by finally trying to let everything out I can get better. I'm sharing my story because I want other teens to know they are not alone. I love you guys xx~ I'll hopefully be on again soon with a more positive blog. -Angie