I had a happy childhood, for the most part. I had a loving mother, brothers, grandparents, aunt and uncles, besides my dad being there. He was drunk half the time. He would come home late at night and fuss with my mom about stuff I didn’t understand as a child. At age two, I saw my father take a gun and hold it to my mother’s stomach when she was pregnant with my little brother. That traumatized me.
When I got to elementary school, I was known as the ugly duckling in the class. Every day I would come home crying because some kids called me fat, or I was to short to do anything. I let people walk over me because I’ve seen my mother take everything my father did to her. When I got to middle school, I started zoning out in my social life, my school work and activities. I’ve always been known as the fat kid. Even my P.E teacher told me, “You’re gonna be nothing ever, except for fat.” During my 7th grade year, I was contemplating my sexuality. Am I a boy or a girl? Eventually I got put on meds for ADD. My 9th grade year is when I changed my life and became a boy. But I wasn’t happy. I never have been. I didn’t have any friends, so I turned to cutting and drawing sick and twisted things. My tenth grade year, I began to starve myself and cut more and more. I even tried to commit suicide eight times.
My depression began, I guess, when I was little. Especially my anxiety. I would always question what I did. Will this make them happy? I never even stopped and asked myself, “Natalie, is this what you want?” My anxiety and depression are the reason I dropped out of high school because I couldn’t face the hate from kids and teachers every day. Even though I’m medicated now, I still suffer and I can’t make it go away.
The informational content of this article is intended to convey a personal experience and, because every person’s experience is unique, should not be relied upon as a substitute for professional healthcare advice.