Let us take a break about talking about Francisco, and take a trip down Mental health lane.
In 2015, I moved out of my parents house and into my own space. I was starting college and working at the same time. October came around and I met this guy who changed my life. He was 23 at the time and I was 17, he worked at this restaurant and my mom figured it would be good for me to get out there in the dating world and told the guy I wanted his number and well guess what. He gave it to me. Now fast forward to a week later, I had gone bowling with him and his friends, and when I got home I instantly regretted not asking him to come over. But the next day I told him to come over so him and I can watch a movie. But one thing let to another and I ended up losing my virginity, knowing damn well it was not what I wanted. This guy wouldn’t return my calls, or texts. Avoided serving me when I went to his work. I knew I fucked up. Was it because I wasn’t skinny? Was I not pretty enough for him. All the “What if” questions ran through my mind. I didn’t know how to make it stop, so of course I resulted in hooking up with the next guy. Now this guy made me feel like a princess, he cared and took his time with me. But he was my friends ex boyfriend and I had this gut feeling of guilt. He swore to me that they weren’t together or anything but my gosh was that a lie. I fell once more for a guy who just wanted me to open my legs. I felt like an idiot. Now I had this phase on tinder that I kept hooking up with almost everyone I matched with and I eventually started getting really depressed. I resulted in drinking a lot and smoking a lot. My life was hitting rock bottom. I was contemplating in committing suicide. I would cry and hear voices telling me to do it, and telling me all the wrong stuff I have done and I hated myself. I had a bottle of pills ready to take my life, but I couldn’t go through with it. I turned to alcohol as a way to escape reality, and it was like that for almost 4 years. Fast forward to 2019, I met my boyfriend. I would have panic attacks and moment were I was just not myself and he told me to reach out for help, I caved in and messaged my doctor asking for a consult so I can get in with a therapist. It was the best decision of my life, I was doing fine until January 2020, I started to fall into a state of depression, May 2020 I tried to take my life once again, I got put into IOP which stands for Intensive Outpatient Program. You get groups 4 times a week for 3ish hours. I still have my thoughts but they have been somewhat controlled by medication. Today, I am in 3 groups and back in IOP from an attempt of self harm, I am not proud of what I have tried to do to myself, but I am proud that I am still here.
Until next time.
This quiet girl❤