Depression
Over time, I slipped into a deep depression. Spending
night in my room alone, cutting on my wrists with whatever
I could find to cut them with.
I felt as though I was in this
really deep, dark hole. in my mind, it always seemed like a
deep well. There was light at the top, but I could never
seem to get there. The hole just got deeper everyday. I
didn't know I was depressed, I just knew I didn't want to do
it anymore. Couldn't do it anymore.
On January 2, 1989, I took about 150 aspirin. I waited six
hours before telling anyone. In those six hours, I was
burning up. Going in and out of the house. it must have
been 20 degrees out there, but i wasn't cold. I was going
out to throw up. I was throwing up aspirin mixed with
stomach acids. It burned so badly in my throat and nose.
When I did tell, I told my brother. he told me not to worry,
that I would be sick for a few days, but would be alright.
My parents said my sister and I had to go to bed,So, we
went to our room. We layed there for awhile. My ears
started ringing very loud, and my heart was racing. And I
got scared. I went to my parents and told them. I
remember my mother screaming at me, and not being
able to hear her because the ringing was so loud. They
got dressed and took me to the hospital. On the way there,
I kept trying to take my coat off, but my mother wouldn't let
me. I was so hot, and couldn't catch my breath.
I spent eighteen hours in the emergency room. Aspirin
thins the blood.My heart was beating 198 times a minute. I
was throwing up blood where the aspirin had ate holes in
my stomach. I was so hot because my blood was so thin
that my heart had to race to keep enough oxygen running
through my body.
I never prayed harder in my life like I did that night. And I
know god heard me. While in the emergency room, with
everyone rushing around doing all they could, after all, I
wasn't expected to live. A sudden calm came over me. I'm
not sure what it was, but if I had to give my best guess, I
would say god was there with me. The feeling was so
strong. He could have been sitting in the corner, it was that
strong. I knew I was going to be o.k. I knew that I didn't
want to die.
when the people in the emergency room came to the
same conclusion. They came and told me I was being sent
to another part of the hospital.I assumed it would be a
regular hospital room. It turned out to be a juvenile
rehabilitation center. I was locked in, checked on every
fifteen minutes at night, was told what to talk about,and
who to talk to. I was told I would I would be there for ten
days. But after that ten days, I had to appear before a
judge who would decide if I need to stay longer. During the
first ten days, I was diagnosed as being chronically
depressed. I was told I had to stay sixty more days. And I
did. In this time, No one ever tried to find out about the
source of my depression. That wasn't the important thing
to them. Changing my behavior was.No one ever spoke to
me aboput being raped, not until later.
After my sixty days, I was sent home. I was there for one
month. My parents had left home for the day, and left my
brother in charge. James and I had gotten back together.
His mother came by my house to see if I could come over
for the day.My brother said it was o.k., so I went. Later that
evening, my parents showed up. My mother was very
angry, and she was yelling at Jame's mom.I tried to
defend her, and my mother pushed me down the front
steps to the house. We ended up in a huge fight in the
yard. I was then taken back to the hospital by my parents. I
was only kept there because I refused to go back home
with my mother, and told them I wanted to be put into a
foster home.My parents agreed to this, so I was to stay
until a foster home was found.I was told by some of the
staff, that I wasn't there because of me, but because of my
mother. The judge at the second hearing, told my dad that
it was no wonder that I was depressed, and asked him
why the rape was never taken care of. Psychologically or
otherwise. I later learned that my mother didn't believe I
was raped.
While I was waiting to be placed in a foster home, my
parents decided they were moving to Kansas City. And
from what my older brother tells me, they were just going
to leave me there. Somehow, he talked them in to signing
me out to live with him. My mother came on May 27, 1989,
and signed me out. I didn't see my parents again for over
two years.
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Of:
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