In my teenage years I had a lot going on. I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety, both of which I was on medication for and I was self-harming quite often.
Furthermore, during that time:
- My parents got divorced.
- I barely saw my dad.
- People at school were talking behind my back and spreading rumors.
- I was smoking marijuana and drinking.
- I was arrested.
- I spent a week in the Psych Unit.
- I had dropped out of school and went online.
Any one of these things alone would have been stressful enough for a teenager. Especially one dealing with depression and anxiety. Self-harm went through the roof. I was using scissors, razors, and lighters to cut and burn myself. I remember how relaxed I would feel after cutting. The blood running down my legs or arms. A short feeling of release from the depression and anxiety.
I now know that my medicine needed to be increased in dosage or switched but I had no clue then. Instead, I continued to suffer in silence because at this point, I was afraid to really TALK to my therapist for fear of being put back in the hospital. My mom was trying her best to understand me but I just couldn’t explain anything. All I could do was cut and then cry in regret as my mom bandaged me up.
That was one thing about cutting. It was a release of emotions when you first did it, then you would feel disappointed in yourself, sad, angry, and ashamed afterward. It was a horrible cycle I couldn’t break. I was lost and couldn’t tell up from down.
The drinking and smoking weed helped me to feel like I belonged somewhere and it helped me disassociate from the depression and anxiety. I now know that I was self-medicating because my meds weren’t working for me at all.
Once I finished school online, I decided to get a job so I would have so money. My first job was waitressing at Waffle House in Hampton, on Mercury Boulevard. I was good at waitressing but the guy I kept getting stuck working with was a major pot head. He smoked all during our shift and would disappear for a half hour or so. When that happened, I would take the orders of anyone who walked in, not knowing how long the other guy was going to be gone. Usually you wait on every other person that comes in the establishment.
Then, when he would come back in he would complain, in front of customers, that I had taken his tables. Never mind the fact that they already had their food and were eating when he finally walked in to take their order.
Needless to say, I got tired of that real quick and ended up quitting Waffle House. I was working the night shift, until 6:00 AM during that time so that was even more reason for me to leave. I was only 17 when I got my first job.
Then, I got an opportunity to be a receptionist at an OB/GYN’s office. That wasn’t much of a better environment as the doctor sexually harassed ALL of us! He made comments like “Y’all should have your exams done by me.” And, “I’m going to buy all three of you completely white outfits and take you all out of my boat and get your soaking wet.” Reminder that I was still 17 at the time, so that job didn’t last long either.
During this time I still had no relationship with my dad. He didn’t call me and I didn’t call him. I felt like he didn’t want to have anything to do with me so that’s why I didn’t reach out. Plus, he was the adult, wasn’t he the one that was REALLY supposed to reach out in that situation?










