By the time I turned 15, I was so depressed that I actually tried to kill myself by taking
half a bottle of my mom’s prescription antidepressant Wellbutrin. She refused to take her medication because she was “fine”. It made me so sick I thought I was going to die. I must have spent an entire day in the bathroom vomiting. when my mom asked what the hell was wrong with me, I told her what I had done and she was angrier with me than concerned. She figured it was easier to pawn me off to a psychiatrist. I hated it. I didn’t want to talk about my feelings and what was going on in my life, I wanted to be left the hell alone. I guess the doctor thought “well let’s just give her some pills and see what happens.” I was put on Prozac, Effexor and ironically, Wellbutrin. Let’s just stay I didn’t stay on any of them long enough because I thought I found something better. I discovered that cutting myself was a good way to help alleviate the immediate pain I was feeling. I couldn’t tolerate the emotional and mental pain I felt and became desperate to find ways to numb them. I was also becoming very sexually active, not that I was just sleeping with anyone, they were boyfriends, I just seemed to have shorter relationships than before. I was usually the more experienced one and loved to capitalize on that fact. I even had some friends that called me the De-virginizer since I took at least seven guys virginity between the ages of thirteen and seventeen. I wasn’t afraid of sex or shy about it either, it was just something that I did like drinking, smoking or taking drugs. It was the start of my impulsive behavior that would rear its ugly head for years to come that I would remain oblivious to. I also discovered the rave scene and along with it acid, ecstasy, cocaine and ketamine. I was going out every weekend and sometimes during the week and always getting high. My mom was all consumed by her break up with Peter to really give a shit about what I was doing, She was a mess. While we were living in that crap apartment I don’t even remember seeing much of her much during this time. She was in an alcoholic coma and I was too busy getting my tongue pierced and finding my next high. When I was still living at Peter’s house I rekindled a friendship with a girl I went to Lutheran school with, Fiona. She had her driver’s license and off we went from one adventure to the next. She told me about these parties called Raves where you could dance all night. The moment we walked into the club after paying $10 to get in I felt so free and loved by everyone, probably because they were all so high. When I moved back into our house in Boca Raton, raves and drugs were at least a 3 night a week habit.
Misguided Mommy 