Anyway, that depression stayed through my teens. As an adult I never realised how much schooling I’d missed till my mum died and I found a school report saying they couldn’t comment on me as I hadn’t been there very much. At this point I was running to social services a few times to ask for help, even to a friends parents to ask if I could live there. I was desperate for help but none of these alarm bells rang loud enough it seems. They’d send for my mum and I’d get hell when I got home. So I stopped asking for help.
Ironically I was in my 20’s before I left home – I had learnt to cope through drinking with friends, work, staying out late, risky behaviour when boyfriends and pretty much anyone who would give me a bed for the night. I’d sleep on floors of random workmates houses after we’d all been out drinking all night. All this stuff just made me looked troubled I’d guess but now I can see patterns of behaviour through it all. I can see depression on and off all my life, recall walking down the street and musing about killing myself, or dying, or jumping in front of the lorry coming toward me. I’d tell myself to be patient one day it’ll be better, but I never made that break.
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Trigger Warning: Suicide