I have been going back and forth, trying to see how should start this. But here goes nothing.

I have known that I had depression since the day that all I did was cry myself to sleep. I was withdrawn from everything, and thoughts to end my life came in to play. I know what you are thinking , "Nash you totally self diagnosed yourself." But when you come from a very low income family like myself, some resources like seeing a therapist weren't ever at my disposal. When you know you feel this pain inside, or are thinking about things you shouldn't be thinking about, you don't need a doctor to tell you what you already know. Especially when you were taught to never speak about your problems to anyone.

Having bottled up all those thoughts and emotions began making me slowly explode. After school and work my room was my sanctuary, the one place I could hide away from the world, blasting music as loud as it could go to mask the yelling of my parents' arguments. Not having anyone around to vent to became disastrous to me. Mainly because I would talk to those I trusted, but they became so fed up with the same old thing that they labeled my life as "drama" and I as equally as "dramatic" because I couldn't move on from it. But how can you move on if every day was the same thing in a toxic family. I understand everyone has their own coping mechanism, and mine was lethal. I was skipping meals everyday to ensure I could take my food to work next day or that my mom and my sister had enough to eat. I would sit on my bed crying thinking why did God let me be a part of this family. Why wouldn't this aching pain go away?

In April 2014, was the first time I ever released the pain. That day my parents were having their usual arguments and between the shouts and my dog barking I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't want to be a part of this family, I already left like a failure because I felt like I had nothing to contribute to society. I went to my room and I pulled out a pair of scissors, opened it wide, sat on bed crying and cut myself on my left forearm. When nothing came out I dug deeper until I saw blood come out. I dropped the scissors on to the bed and I stopped crying though stray tears were still falling down my face. I looked at my arm and I felt fine. I wasn't feeling any pain on the inside because the pain was coming from my arm. I continued to sit there and think. I really didn't want to live anymore, and I thought that anything I'd do no one would've noticed. I was in a numb state and I remember walking up to my mom, showing her my arm and her crying and asking me "why I did I do that?" "Why would I hurt myself?" My only response was that I didn't want to live anymore.

Later on into the night my father came into my room to put gauze around my arm. I never spoke much after that not because of shame or guilt but because I didn't know myself anymore. I wasn't happy. I can honestly say since then I haven't had a real moment where I was truly happy. I still don't know the meaning of the word 'happiness'. I wish I could say that was the last time I intentionally hurt myself but I would be lying. When it came to the summer of 2014 everything seemed okay after a while; there were a lot of distractions. But when reality struck, I felt all my thoughts and emotions come back. I didn't know what to do and I felt like everyone would walk on egg shells anytime they talked about intense topics. I always had the same questions being asked. "Why?" To be honest when you don't feel good enough, or feel broken, or like a waste of space, or you believe that everything would be better without you, you feel like your only option is to disappear.

As the years came and went I sought other ways to relieve myself then cutting. I abused alcohol; the one thing I'd never thought I do. I drank socially, but anytime my suicidal thoughts came back I would intentionally drink as much as I could, just so I could be so numb that I wouldn't remember why I felt anything in the first place. I hated myself every time I had a bad hangover. I hated to admit to myself that I had a problem. Drinking was the only thing keeping my from cutting myself. It had gotten so bad there are some days that I barely remember what happened the night before. I still didn't care.

I looked forward to it every weekend, it helped me pretend for a moment that I wasn't broken and I didn't feel like something was wrong with me. There was one night were I drank way past my limit and I did it half hoping that I would be another one of those cases where "she drank so much it killed her." All that ended recently when I knew in my heart that I couldn't continue doing this to myself. The only person that can get you grew anything is yourself. I stopped excessively drinking since January officially but I had already stopped in the end of October 2016. I focused my life back into writing which I think was maybe what saved me. I was able to create an alternate reality that distracted me from everything. Instantly became a homebody and made a new year resolution to do less clubbing and drinking and have more fun adventures with myself or a few selected friends. Currently I've been upholding it. I still drink every once in while but socially only.

One thing I do want to mention; we aren't invincible. We hurt inside and out. We all go through things in our lives that maybe another person might not understand because they've never experienced it. I still have urges. I still think I am useless but I also think I am a survivor. I fight a demon that wants to win so badly; it wants me to give in but we know we can't. Back then I never had any options or resources to receive help. I'm going to honest, knowing there's so many resources that can help us makes me scared. Because even though I've admitted to myself and anyone who reads this about my mental illness, I'm still scared of someone judging me.

Everyday is a different battle. Everyday is a new beginning. To anyone that feels like they aren't good enough, take it from me; it's hard to believe in ourselves when we are feeling at our lowest but God doesn't make mistakes. He set us on this Earth to fulfill a purpose. I'm not a religious person whatsoever, but I do believe that there's a good reason why we are all here and until we find out what it is, we shouldn't give up! We matter just as much as everyone around us does. Stay strong.

1-800-273-8255 The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is available 24 hours a day.