Josh’s dad is 52-years-old and his mom is 49.  Josh says that the two have been married for a long time but they don’t seem to have much of a social life with friends or neighbours, etc.

Josh told me that he isn’t close with his brothers and hasn’t talked to them about anything that was or is going on at home.  “I keep to myself and I don’t really get involved in any of their lives so I really have no idea how they feel about things,” he said.

The SpeakFree website is a forum to show any points of view that are sent in to us.  If the parents stumble across the site, they are free to participate.  If you are asking if SpeakFree will contact the parents to hear the other side of the story, the answer is no.  We don’t do interviews and facilitate a talk show type atmosphere.  But if the parents write in, absolutely they will be heard and their story could be posted.

This letter was sent to SpeakFree and we contacted the writer for her complete story.

       Depression runs in my family for one thing, but I didn't really notice it until I got into 7th grade.  I started caring more about my appearance and I started really wanting to impress the guys, but I was overweight and kind of tomboyish at the time.  I started disliking myself.  On top of that things between me and my dad weren't going too well.  I had become consumed with the obsession of being accepted by my peers especially the “cool” ones.  By the beginning of 8th grade I had started smoking, I had also started self mutilation and hanging out with people much, much older than me.  Things with my dad were getting worse, I had started believing that I really hated him.  I had finally got some attention from guys, but it wasn’t the kind that I wanted.  I was so desperate for approval though that I went with it.  I had stopped eating, much to keep the figure that I wanted.  I just couldn't accept myself — I wasn't good enough for me.  My mind started becoming consumed with constant self-criticism and hate.  I would write dark poetry to try and get it out.  But the situation just kept getting worse.

       By the end of my 8th grade year I had become addicted to marijuana.  I had found a release along with (physically) cutting (myself).  I almost flunked out of that year. My freshman year came around and I was just rebellious.  I hated the world, my dad, and myself.  Yet at the same time I was trying to search for some kind of love.  I was hospitalized for depression that September, and then later again in November for overdosing on my depression medication.  I was going to therapy but I didn't want to open up.  I was punishing myself for some reason.  I didn't feel I deserved a real life but still I searched for it in all the wrong places.  What made it even worse was that I had become ashamed of myself.  I had become someone that I never wanted to be.

       I then got mixed up with a guy two years older than me.  He was emotionally and physically abusive.  He wasn’t like that at first though.  I ended up flunking my freshman year because I never went to school I was either smoking pot or with my boyfriend.  The guy was so controlling that he literally became my only friend.  I couldn’t do my hair, makeup, or wear cute clothes.  I was his slave.  I was so depressed but with the tiny bits of love he showed me every now and then I thought I was doing good.  I figured he could fill in for the love I didn't have for myself.  I didn’t have to smoke pot anymore.  I had him — my new drug.

       But eventually that wore off.  I tried my second freshman year at a small Lutheran school hoping I would do better there, but was eventually kicked out and I went back to my old school.  I got pregnant by my boyfriend. His mother persuaded me to have an abortion saying that she would pay for it and that she had had two herself so it would be OK.  I didn’t want to do it with all my heart, but I gave in and did it.  After that my boyfriend slowly left me.

       That December I lost it all again.  I overdosed on 60 extra strength pain relievers and didn’t tell anyone until the next morning.  I was in bad shape.  The doctors were surprised I was still awake, let alone alive.  I spent several days in ICU with them trying to stabilize my liver.  My parents then decided I needed a different kind of help.  I was sent to a program in Utah which is part of the WWASP (World Wide Association of Specialty Programs) for teens.  I was there for two years and it saved my life.

I’ve been home for almost two years now.  I graduated with my class and am now going to be a sophomore in University where I am studying psychology to become a therapist to work with teens who are like me.  I also volunteer with my local domestic violence shelter where I go around to the high schools and share my story of teen dating violence.  I still struggle with my depression.  I take medication for it too.  I don’t like that part, but at least I have control now. It tries to sneak back every now and then, but I stay strong.

       A lot of people become the way they do because they don’t want to see that they are depressed.  I just accept it and people don’t even know it unless I were to tell them.  So whatever you are going through, you should know that you are not alone.