Bryanna's Story.

[MissMiserable]

I am the creator of this forum, but I'm warning you,
This may tigger some things, so be careful when reading this.
and it's very long...my apoligies in advance.



^^That's me in Family Dollar. Photo taken by Amber. I lobbbeee her. =]

My name is Bryanna, I'm fifteen, and I'm a recovering suicidal cutter. I've been cutting ever since I can remember. But I never really saw it as self mutilation until this January, 2007. I didn't say anything of it though. I refuse to speak to therapists about my past. I never found them helpful. I found it was easier to talk to people who were similar to me. Who knew somewhat how I was feeling. My closest friends, Abby, and Amber are what help me get through. Though, I have no contact with any of them now-a-days for reasons I'll bring up later.

My sister had cancer when she was eleven. I was only six when that happened. I was neglected while she had it. I remember crying hysterically because my parents were never home. I was only a kid back then... I didn't know what was going on. I thought they didn't want me and that she was more important than I was. You know how it is, when you're in kindergarten and everyone has friends, but you're the loner? Well, it's been like that ever since. Being neglected has had a huge impact on my life. I understand now that they had to be with her because she was dying. After a while, she got better, but I still felt the same. I still do, because I'm still neglected.

I started going to Camp Quality along with her and my brother. It's a camp where people with cancer and their siblings go for a week just to have fun. I met someone there, Crystal, who later changed my life.

When I was nine, in 2001. My Grandma Joyce past away. I basically lived with her as I was growing up; she was like a mother to me. I took that so hard. I was so close to her. She was what got me through when my sister was sick. I miss her so much that it still hurts me. My aunt even said that I could hold her ashes at my home. She can come and visit me whenever I want her to. As long as Larry doesn't know about it.

My parents divorced when I was really young. Larry has been my step father for several years now. My biological father is an alcoholic and he has been since before my parents even met. He was abusive. That's why I refuse to see or stay with him now. I can't handle it because whenever I have to see him, I can't take the memories. I still remember all that he did…and it hurts me. He even kicked me out on thanksgiving, one of the only times I said I'd see him. What a great father, right?

My step father Larry, has been both good and bad to me. We've had our fights, both physical and verbal. But all in all, he's a good guy...he just has a horrible temper. I still think he needs to take anger management classes. But I haven't had any problems since I've stopped leaving my room...only occasionally I will. Even now I'm in my room. He's not home, but the rest of my family are. Moving on...

In October, 2005. I lost my step grand father and Crystal within two weeks of each other. I spent that whole month crying every night. Crystal and I may not have been the closest of friends, but the fact that she died after we knew each other for years, it really got to me. I had been going there since I was like…seven. My step grandfather lived right next door to me. I brought him food; I helped take care of him. Death seemed like it was following me.

It's been seven months since I lost my friend to a suicide. We were close. So very close. I was there when it happened. I saw her take her life. And I couldn't do anything. I froze. I feel so guilty for it. I could have stopped her and instead, she blew herself all over me. I remember that day so clearly. I was over her house, Rachel's. We were just talking. About how life was going. How about our friend had passed just in October. How she was going to kill herself, and then I was. She had the gun, I had the bullets. It seamed like it would take forever to load the gun. It had gone so slow… We had made a pact that we were going to end it. But just as she went to pull the trigger, I looked at her and said I couldn't do it. She didn't say anything… she just turned away, and the next thing I knew, I was covered in her blood. I didn't know what to do. I broke. Even further than I already had. I remember sliding down the wall and the nail scraping my back as I went down. I couldn't even cry. I just froze.

I was hospitalized in January, but only for a day. They said I had major depressive disorder, but they didn't prescribe any anti-depressants, which I just shook off because I didn't like the idea of being on drugs. They ended up prescribing Ritalin for my A.D.D. I refused to take it and till this day, I still won't.

Then, at the end of March I went again, that time I stayed longer. It was for making a suicide threat, and eventually I attempted suicide. I spent fifteen hours in an ER before being sent to a "behavioral health hospital." I was diognosed bipolar. The first few days at Laurelwood, I had been a horrible wreck, I refused to speak or participate in group. They locked me out of my room because I refused to leave for anything. While I was there, I didn't eat anything for six days. Which then they thought I had an eating disorder, but I don't. I was on a hunger strike because I didn't want to be there. Stupid move on my part because I started getting delusional after a while. I didn't tell anyone though that I was hearing and seeing things. It wasn't unlikely for me. I hear voices, but I tell no one of them.

On the third day, my mood took a dramatic change and I started talking to everyone. I met Amber that day and she forever changed my life. She was similar. She didn't speak or participate in group, but for some odd reason, she spoke to me and we became friends, instantly. She wanted to do my make-up...haha. Anyways, I spent six days in there and while in there I met a few people who I still keep in contact with, like Amber, Erin, and Brandon.

I met Brandon in the gym after Eric had ripped off his shirt and called me a pervert. It was really weird. Eric smacked my ass on the way out, and I just laughed at that. Little did I know, he liked smacking asses. Brandon told me he smacked his too. Brandon and I grew so close we eventually formed a relationship. When I left, I was so upset that they decided to send me back...nine hours after I left. So I was put on indi. But my room-mate, the other Amber, passed our notes along.

He told me he loved me first. I didn't say anything until I knew he loved me. Which you can't really call it love, seeing as he said it after three days. It was a, love-at-first-sight type thing. I wanted so much to be with him. But he ended up leaving me because he wasn't well, and back then, I didn't understand. I was so upset that he stopped talking to me that I started cutting again. Even when in the hospital, the first few days, I found ways to cut. I still cut while with him, but we made a pact that we wouldn't cut or attempt suicide. He admitted that he broke it first. But truth be told, I never stopped...

He made contact with me and we're talking when he can. His mother doesn't like me because of where we met...so, she's keeping him from having contact with me. He sneaks on though. =] So, that's always nice. The moments I had with him... I still cherish. He was a good guy, even though I know he had a girlfriend for a year while he was "with me." He's bipolar, and that gives him no excuse for that kind of betrayal, but I don't really care about that kind of thing because well, I realized it wasn't love, it was just an understanding.

I though I loved him, but I realize I didn't. Charley… that was love, but not everlasting love. (One of my more complicated relationships.) Jake… that was something entirely different (and I shouldn't have done what I did.) I've made plenty of relaitionship mistakes to probably be an expert, and I'm only a teenager.

I can't talk to Amber right now because she was sent away. Abby's grounded, but I talk to her mom occasionally. It's nice having contact with someone. My friends from my old school...I don't talk to anymore. The only people I talk to are people I've met online...which says a lot about my hermit ways.

I've been beaten, broken, and fatally damaged, but I'm trying to change that. Even if I gave up on life, I'm trying to live again. And I want to help others. I want someone to help me. So, talk if you need to. If it's to rant, I'll listen. If you need help, I'll listen. If you need advice, I'll do my best to give you some.

I'm not like most people. I could be so depressed and have a plan to end my life, but when you're speaking face to face, I can be so alive. It's not lying; it's acting. I'm quite a good actress. =][img]