I was diagnosed with depression in the summer of 2004.  I am now 27 years old.  My life was wonderful and happy until I was nine.  My parents had divorced when I was 2 or so and my little brother and I were being raised by my Mom and Dad (my step-dad technically).  Two weeks after my ninth birthday my Mom died while we were on vacation.  No one in my family or extended family ever talked about it.  Never.  I have always considered her death my fault.  Even to this day, I struggle with the thought that had we not been so far away from home for my dance competition, maybe the doctors would have been able to save her.  I remember for years I would lie in bed every night praying to God to either bring back my Mom or take me to be with her. 

Two months after losing my Mom, one of my neighborhood friends was killed by a drunk driver. 

When I was 11 my Dad remarried and I gained a step-Mom and 3 step-siblings.  Now there are five of us kids and we are all within a year or less of each other in age.  I had to switch schools three times in two years after my parents (step-dad & step-mom) married.  My biological father was NEVER around but I always told myself I didn’t care about him.  In fact I always considered myself a very well adjusted person and I at one point convinced myself that I didn’t miss my Mom anymore.   Life in my family had its good and happy moments, but for the most part I was miserable.   I excelled at everything I did.  I was a good kid and a great teenager.  I did nothing against the rules (really) but I was always in trouble with my parents.  I hesitate to call what I constantly endured abuse, but in hindsight I suppose that’s a fairly accurate label.   I couldn’t wait to get out of my small town and away from my immediate family.  I love them dearly, but from a distance only. 

I moved 100 miles away to go to college and had some rebellious behavior that put me in some situations that were undesirable.  I unfortunately never sought help for an unwanted sexual encounter and I think that just added to my already risky and unsafe behavior.  Yet, I was happy and content with my life.  I was free.  I’ve had my heartbroken a few times, but who hasn’t? 

In 2000 I moved 1000 miles away on a whim.  I lived on the ocean.  Loved it there, but I started feeling down.  I fell in love and moved back to my previous location to be with the man of my dreams.  Two months after we moved in together, he fell out of love with me.  My world collapsed.  Three months later and still very much in love with him, all my hope for reconciling was lost when he was killed in a snowmobile accident.   My emotional stability started to spiral out of control.  It took all the strength I had, to not run my car into an overpass.  Literally.  It seemed like everything kept building and piling up on me till I couldn’t take it anymore.  I reached an all time low in 2004 and with tremendous love and support from a couple friends I finally asked for help. 

Facing my experiences and having all this stuff brought to the surface after so many years of ignoring everything, as well as pretending to be all right and trying to be perfect, pushed me over the edge.  I was hospitalized for a month and started on meds.  I did some net searching and found the BTB website and fell in love with all the people I met here.  Of all the support resources I’ve been introduced to or come across, I can honestly say that aside from the meds, this website has been the most affective asset in my treatment.  It’s nice to know that when I feel I have nowhere else to turn there’s always BTB.  Supportive, non-judgmental, caring and always compassionate.   I will be forever grateful.