Tuesday, October 11, 2011
So I started reading a book the other night about a boy who attempts suicide. It is written by his Mom, him and his girlfriend. Some of the terms used to describe him when he was depressed really bothered me. The troubled adolescent or the happy go lucky child
I remember my own Mom describing me as a happy go lucky child. I don't remember being all that happy or lucky as a child. I remember going to school.to escape my turmoil. I once described my life like the ten little indians jumping on the bed.
It was always loud at home. There were seven children. My father was an alcoholic. My Mom was very co-dependent. I sensed that she felt trapped in an unhappy marriage, but wouldn't think of divorce.
I see myself in this book I am reading. I didn't attempt suicide as a teen, but did spend time on psychiatric ward. A lost 14 year old in an adult unit. Introduced to medication that numbed the mind and had many side affects. Not a pretty sight.
It a scene I have often replayed in my head. I.have tried to get past it. Many people think I should just forget it. But it is a part of me I can't hide anymore.
I chose to be open about my first hospitalization. I choose to be open and risk judgement and criticism. It helped shape the person I have become. It is the troubled teenager as an adult. Shedding the weight that was a protective barrier put up so others wouldn't get to know the real me. The me I am now showing to the world.