Introduction and Early Years
I have a story I'd like to share with you. I'm 35 and I'm from Cleveland. I have been keeping a secret from everyone, including myself. I chose to not share it with anybody because I didn't want to have people feel sorry for me. Many people, including myself, feel less than human when it concerns certain health issues. The recent death of Robin Williams shocked and surprised us. "He seemed fine", we all thought. But in reality, he was wearing a mask. He had personal struggles that no one knew about and chose to take his own life. I wore that mask as well. Nobody ever knew the inner demons I was battling because of the shame that accompanies mental illness. It is a health crisis that needs to be addressed.
In sharing my story, I want to remind you that I am not telling it because I am seeking sympathy or attention. If my story can help someone who is going through this seek help, my mission will be accomplished. It is nothing to be ashamed of and it is not your fault. Our society needs to stop stigmatizing people with mental illness and be more aware of the problem. We as a society also need to make help more readily available for ALL people. It is a disease just like cancer, heart disease and many others. We need to have people become more aware and passionate about mental illness like they are about other diseases. I feel if we do this, we can reduce suicide, substance and violence.
My story began in the late 1970s. My father left soon after he found out my mom was pregnant. My grandparents were supportive and helped out when needed. My early childhood was normal until my mom became pregnant again. I started acting out and become a hypochondriac. Before a vacation one day, I had my first anxiety attack. I became short of breath and my body was tingling. Shortly after that I began therapy. I was only six years old.
Therapy lasted about 5 years. It was helpful to an extent. I was still afraid to touch things in fear of getting sick, but I managed to live a relatively normal life. I had a lot of friends and I enjoyed playing baseball. I was a happy young kid growing up in the 80's.
That lasted until seventh grade. We didn't have a lot of money and my school clothes came from Kmart and other discount department stores. I became isolated and I was frequently bulled because I had red hair, glasses and cheap clothes. All of my friends in elementary school chose to avoid me. I felt sadness and despair for the first time in my life.
Things got worse in eighth grade. I was small for my age, so I was targeted on a daily basis. I would be shoved in lockers, called hurtful names, beat up and spit on daily. My mom urged me to fight back, so one day I did. I ended up getting jumped by 4 kids in the locker room after gym class. It was humiliating. My mom came to the school and she was seen by some of my classmates. The name calling intensified. I wanted to transfer but they said that couldn't happen.
I became the "joke" of the school. The kids came up with a prank to pull on me. They gave me a letter that was supposedly written by a girl who said she liked me and wanted me to meet her at a school dance. I was nervous yet excited. After all, a girl liked me, right? When I got there, they were standing where "she" said to meet her, laughing and pointing fingers. I was broken. I called my mom and she picked me up. She tried to console me but I got very angry. I didn't want her sympathy, or anyone's for that matter.
I hated myself and I wanted to die, but I was too afraid of doing it. I became fascinated with hanging, so I spent hours making nooses in my room. I never told anyone about it because I was afraid they would think I was crazy. I was living in my own personal hell.
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