The Life Of My Life

My teenage years you could say were a little bit better. My parents got divorced, and they fought over custody of me. This is the only time they seemed to care about me. My mother won me. She remarried Joe Capote, and he became my new dad. My name was now Truman Capote. My mother still seemed to hate me, she blamed me for not being a "normal" boy. How could I fail at something so easy as being a boy? Some days she loved me and others she hated me. I was going to a private school for boys in Manhattan. I made some friends. I enjoyed telling them stories and making everyone laugh. My mother forced me to go to a military school to be more manly. That turned out poorly and I returned home. I make some close friends at my new school, we liked to hang out and party. This was the best part of my life. I felt like I was a part of something for once. I was finally excepted into a group of people. This was my lifestyle, I continued to party into adulthood. (Biography.com Editors.)

Anyways, I self-harmed, and had many suicide attempts, when I finally succeeded. I had cut deeper than usual, but it was taking to long,and me being the impatient ass I am, took some painkillers to speed up the process and that did the trick.

As an elementary school student, I did not have many friends. I had not been with my classmates since preschool, so I was an outsider from the start. Being so young and ignorant, I did not really see that I was bullied, disliked, and unwanted, however, as I became more mature I realized that these people I would spend 8 years of my life with looked for anything to nitpick, from my rupunzelesque hair to my love for drawing. Come middle school, I finally and completely understood the animosity, and still sat alone at lunch, worked alone in class, replied with silence to their words, and when I was even assaulted I did nothing more but shrug it off and try to ignore it. However, when I would come home in the evenings I would retreat to my bedroom where it would all hit me at once. The anguish led to rivers of tears, insomnia, low grades, a refusal to leave my home, and eventually even suicidal tendencies. My drawings became graphic, about suicide, loneliness, and the anger I felt. The school believed I had ADHD, my parents believed it was just a phase, but they were blinded by their own problems at the workplace.

The two things that I will compare and contrast are two time periods in my life. The first time period will be my 7th grade year to my 10th grade year, this would be a short time from middle to high school. The second time period that I will be comparing and contrasting to that will be from my 11th grade year till now. My 7th grade year to my 10th grade years of schooling, I was not in the best mental state. I felt very alone and I had several insecurities about myself, and I would take that out on myself. Self harm was the only result I saw at that time to relieve all the emotions I felt. It was overwhelming for me at that time. I would starve myself and not eat for a day or two. The crazy part was in 8th grade, I was only 80 pounds! I don't know why I would think like that. I went to counseling for it but that did not help at all. Many people that were close to me did not understand why I would do this to myself, which I didn't expect them to because they were one of the reasons. Also during my 10th grade year, I met someone who hurt me in a big way

Anyone who suffers from depression develops coping skills. However, there is a large difference between the positive coping skills that allow for better management of a mental illness and the destructive coping skills that afford temporary relief but ultimately worsen the illness. Instead of talking to someone, going for a walk, or distracting myself, I turned to self-harm. I knew it was not a beneficial thing but I thought I could control it. I was wrong. My habit worsened and soon I found myself thinking of suicide. Still, I did not see how bad I was growing. It was not until I stepped back and saw the whole picture that I realized I could not continue the way I was living. I had to do something. So, I did. I started

When I got to middle school I found myself dealing with a new set of trials that resulted in me falling to self-harm, eventually, I was going to a counselor once a

I would purposely sleep all day so that I could walk around the streets all night and then do it all over again for days on end. This ending with a result of me being arrested because the police did not want me to hurt myself again. Luckily, there was no charges it was just to keep me safe. I would consistently carry razor/sharpener blades hidden all over me. I did this so that I could self-harm as much as I needed. I had to talk to many doctors and such but I never told them the truth. I told them I was perfectly fine just so I could go

I thought of all the ways I could go and it got to the point where my parents had to hide sharp objects from the kitchen from me. The suicidal thoughts got so worse that I told a teacher. I got help from a psychiatrist for a while and she diagnosed me with anxiety and a sleeping disorder of some sort. I had to take pills for a while.

Self-harm is a way of expressing and dealing with deep distress and emotional pain. As counterintuitive as it may sound to those on the outside, hurting yourself can make you feel better. In fact, you may feel like you have no choice. Injuring yourself is the only way you know how to cope with feelings like sadness, self-loathing, emptiness, guilt, and rage.

6th grade became the worst year of my life. My step-dad called me a piece of shit that year. I had maybe 5, 6 friends. 7th grade was a great year for me, which allowed me to become more vulnerable and naive than I already was. Then came 8th grade, which became(very quickly) a year worse than 6th grade. Not only did I have the same amount of friends as 6th grade, my teachers treated me like I was an abomination, a retard. Well, not all the teachers, just the male teachers. All of my female teachers treated me nicer by comparison, although one lost my homework and blamed it on me even though I handed it in on time and where the homework was supposed to go. I still won’t get credit for it. Once, a teacher assumed I made myself sick and leave home early to avoid a test and called me dumb. As the class ended we were supposed to finish writing in class. He took away some of the time I needed to make up that same test to finish it. When I finished it, he yelled at me calling me stupid and let me leave to make up that test. As I was taking it, he tried talking to my science teacher to prevent me from making it

When I first learned self harm, my opinion was that it was bad, and why would anyone do that, except now I understand. I got older and began to cut as my depression worsens and later my friend began to self harm. After looking at the risks that I and my friend took, I was so relieved that i'm still alive. I am no longer self harming, but only music and one of my friends help me the most and now i’m no longer self harming.

It all started in middle school, I don’t know why but I was a target for bullying. In 6th grade I developed panic attacks, in 7th grade I started self-harming because it all had become too much, but in 8th grade was when I had had enough and I ended up in the mental ward from trying to commit suicide. I ended up in the mental ward 3 times

From ages one to five someone was constantly caring for me. Every move I made was watched. No freedom. I was not even my own person. At ages six to ten more freedom and responsibility came. I could pick out my own clothes, feed myself, and decide if I wanted to play barbies or babies. Eleven to fourteen are very confusing ages.I was trying to become my own person, instead of what my parents were. Ages fifteen to eighteen have definitely been the most challenging, but also the most fun years of my life.

I can pinpoint the exact moment where something inside my core broke off into a deep dark pit. School had always been a safe haven for me whenever something in my life to a turn for the worst. It was a place where I could learn and discover new topics since I had a major interest in the unknown. I had amazing friends that I thought I could count on. What made me hate school was when my best friend called me a crude name which will be forever ingrained in my memory. I didn’t have the slightest clue that my name could be rhythmed with anything until that wretched time in the cafeteria in seventh grade. From that day on, my new identity was labelled by the people around me.

Life, in my opinion, was quite boring. Waking up every single day of my teenage life at the same time, eating breakfast at the exact same time, taking practically the same lunch five times a week, taking the bus with the same people I've known all my life and eventually ending up spending eight hours out of my day being around those people. At the end of the day, I still have to go home to meet my family. And yes, it may seem as if I'm a very moody and arrogant teenager, but in my defense, that was the old me. Everything about me changed on that fateful day.