Stepping out of my darkness.
by Katelin Batson
It feels like ever since I was 11 I've been dealing with depression.
It started when I realized my dad wasn't the dad everyone else had, he had a serious crack addiction and was in and out of jail or rehab.
In 7th grade, I moved 8 hours from the only place I've ever known, to be with my new family, who I barely knew, because my mom got married. This caused my depression to worsen because I felt so alone and wanted nothing more than to go back home.
As time moved forward, I started to accept my new home and family and actually grew very fond of it and started to love it, and eventually became very happy there and didn't want to move back to my home town.
However, the depression stayed because of my father. I still wanted so badly him to be a part of my life. I saw him once or twice a year, and talked to him about 3 times. He made no effort to ever call me to see how I was doing, yet I knew for a fact that he called my other sisters every single day (they live in a different state from him too) and that just broke my heart.
It made me feel as if I wasn't good enough for him. Why does he love them and not me? This always got to me, causing my self-esteem to decrease.
The summer of 2010 I gained a little weight, no more than X pounds, but still noticeable. One day, when I was in another room, I overheard my mom talking about how much weight I had gained. I was already self conscious, and that shattered what self-esteem I had.
October of 2010, is when I decided to go to the bathroom, shove a finger down my throat, and vomit. As soon I was done, I got into the shower and cried and cried and cried.
What I had I done? I was so ashamed, but it felt so good.
From that day on, my life went more and more down hill until I finally hit rock bottom. At first, I didn't think it was a problem, I knew it wasn't right, but I didn't think it was bad. After a few months I knew I had a problem. I couldn't eat anything without an overwhelming feeling of guilt and shame. I wanted so badly to be thin and perfect. By the end of the school year, I had started drinking, tried weed, and started cutting.
At one point, I cut my self for every time I threw up, and I threw up a lot. Often times I would get to point of almost passing out because I would puke until I dry heaved.
In May of 2011, I had got the guts to tell my mom, I told her I wanted help because I knew I couldn't do it on my own and I wanted so badly to be normal again. She didn't get me help.
After that, my self-worth dropped even lower. I felt that I wasn't worth even being fixed.
At the beginning of the next school year, I cut back on eating, while still throwing up what I did eat, and I began to exercise more frequently, sometimes burning X calories or more at one time.
I needed to be thin. I had to be thin. I was fat, and that's why I wasn't worthy. I literally carved the word fat into my skin, and still have the scar of it.
I brought my lunch to school everyday, I always have, but that year I started throwing it away once I left the house, and saved only the apple and usually only ate half of my breakfest and half of my dinner while still throwing up and exercising.
I started drinking and smoking more, but that only brought more shame.
In December of 2011, I moved back to my home town after living in my new town for four years, because my mom divorced. I was devastated. The smoking and drinking ceased when I moved, but the depression, bulimia and self-harm got worse.
Only months after moving home, I found out my dad had cancer, a really serious one. That again devastated me, even though I've never been close to my dad, it killed me inside because I wanted a relationship with him and now I might not get to have one.
I questioned God, I was so angry and upset with Him. Why me God?
May 22nd 2012.. I went to a bonfire I was invited to with some kids from school who are crazy about God. They told me to bring some stuff holding me back. I knew that I had to go, that I could not miss this night with them.
I got a shoe box, inside of it I placed two journals that I've been writing in since 8th grade about my depression, eating disorder and self harm. I placed a CD in there that I listened to when I was mad or sad, I just had to get rid of it, I wrote some letters about certain feelings I didn't like, placed them in the box. And lastly, I placed the scissors that I had used to cut myself with inside the box.
I burnt that box and everything in it, as a way of giving it to God for Him to take care of, and He took it, on one condition, I surrender to Him.
That night my life changed. I surrendered to God, because I know I can't do handle or fix things on my own, but through His grace, strength, and unfailing love, I know that I'm forgiven and that I can overcome ANYTHING.
I haven't thrown up or self-harmed since that night, and everyday I grow in my relationship with God as He takes me into higher places with Him.
I was once full of sadness, hopelessness, and brokenness. Now I'm full of joy, hope, peace, comfort, strength and life.
I give all the glory to God.