My father was ashamed of me. I knew this because he told me at one of our family meetings. He said he had thrown away my brand new roller blades they had bought me for my 13th birthday because I was ungrateful of everything they had given me and I had no value for human life.
This was the third time I had attempted suicide since depression hit me at the age of 9. It wasn't anything glamorous. I was 13 and was not yet educated on how to succeed in the art of self-destruction. All I understood was that I was in pain and no one could help me. I tried to tell my mom that I wanted to die and she told me that everyone goes through those feelings. I tried to talk to my friends but they had little advice, being that they were all a bunch of 7th graders. I tried to tell my therapist but nothing she told me made a lick of a difference. I was alone and completely tired of it. I remember feeling trapped, scared and very emotionally driven in an embarrassing way. I felt like an alien. I honestly didn't believe I had any other options, although I knew deep down, much like how I feel today, that I was horribly afraid of death, which left me feeling suffocated. What does a 13 year old girl do when she wants to die, hates her life, can't talk to anybody and is terrified of death?
So there I was in our 2nd family meeting, locked up in a cold, hospital psych ward, miserable, afraid and facing a desolate state of persecution. Juvenile hospitalizations back than (although I am not sure they've changed) did not regard children who were dealing with mental illnesses as vulnerable human beings who were sick and in pain; rather we were viewed as manipulative and unstable.
I had two doctors treating me that were tag teaming every depressed child in the ward. Dr. G was good cop while Dr. M was bad cop. Dr. M was Yugoslavian and appeared to view me as a member of a mass, social conspiracy, jumping on the conveyor belt of spoiled dis-ease and insoluble demand. When he saw me the 2nd day I was admitted he asked me questions such as, "what do you hope to get out of your parents? You tried to kill yourself, you want big TV or maybe new clothes?" I tried to explain to him that I wanted nothing out of them but he just laughed at me and shook his head. Dr. G appeared to be more friendly and willing to listen to where I was coming from, although I had never played these kind of games before. But when I tried to explain to him why I tried to kill myself, he said to me, "so it appears that you have a very narcissistic and manipulative way about you, I mean, that is why you made an attempt on your life, correct? To get something out of your parents?" I said to him, "no sir, I really don't want to live anymore". To which he responded, with a big smile, a shake of the head and a laugh, "so than you're unstable? Have you ever considered long term residence, such as a juvenile delinquent center or a residential home, there are some perfect ones for people like you."
This was a no win situation and the beginning of one of the most awful experiences of my life.
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