Hello Internet.

This is my story. Its not a happy one, its not a romantic one and its not one that you're going to cuddle up with on a cold winter night. But is a true one, and its mine. And those are the two things I searched for more than anything: truth, and something to call my own. This may not be much, but its good enough for me.

After having suffered silently through what I later understood and had diagnosed as depression, Aspergers, Non-Verbal Learning Disability and OCD I, after months worth of setbacks finally decided that enough was enough. I decided that I was, no matter what, going to beat the muffin (my motto for life inspired by some sinfully good muffins I had on Sanibel Island). It's not easy now, it wasn't easy before, and I don't expect it to get easy. But I know it can get better.

So here's my story: I was never a particularly well understood kid. In Elementary school I was alone, friendless, ally-less and confused. I was 'that' kid, the kid who was under the rock wall, slide or steps crying.

I'd been to 2 different therapists before I met the one I current work with. The first one I simply outgrew with age. The second I ended up biting in blind rage after she made (what I consider to be) a rather careless comment on my weight.
To this day I do not share everything with my current therapist, but I share enough so that she feels she knows me, and I still feel safe. I don't like walls, but they have become necessary.

As a result of my constant miscommunication with the outside world, I became violent at home. It is not a fact that I am particularly proud of, but the unfortunate truth of a thus far, rather unblessed life.

After having completed one week in 5th grade, I was sent to what was effectively a detention center for almost 18 months. This was another incident of what has come to be a theme of my life, kicked when I'm down. I served the punishment for an entire families (and school systems) dysfunction and inability to communicate.

But things started getting better. I was living at home again, and got accepted into a school. This school, out of the ordinary by choice rather than simple inability to fit in, was at the time, the closest thing to accepted I had ever been. I did not completely fit in, but it worked.

Things went great for about a year and a half, but towards the end of last year and the begining of this one they began to sour. My relationships with peers became increasingly strained due to their hunger for drama and my inability to understand, feed or tolerate that hunger. I broke down. I became self harmful, and was utterly disgusted by myself. I never had the best self-esteem or self-image in the world, but this level of self-loathing was new even to me. I often mused casually of suicide, as one would the days weather. I had hit (what I hope to be) my all time low.

I was not, at the time on any medication. And despite my pleas for it, my parents were reluctant. I had been on medication as a child and it had, I guess only exacerbated my problems. None of us wanted that again.

But I continued to struggle privately. It hasn't been easy, and I don't every expect it to be. But if I am one thing, it is (regrettably or not) stubborn. I will beat this; I have to.

Things, at the moment, are doing rather well. I've leveled out so to speak; there haven't been any major high points...but on the opposite side of things, there haven't been any major lows.

So for now, I'm stable. I've got no 'weapons' (I refuse, nor do I feel I'm obligated to divulge the exact means by which I self harm) and no access to them even if I wanted them. For that, I must thank my friend, though I think he will remain anonymous...he is, whether I care to admit it or not, reason I am typing this right now. He and I have gone through this together, his battle with "the beasts" as he calls them was a lot more public than mine....but he learned what he could, and passed it on to me.

I remember feeling alone. Like no one understood. Plenty of people can say they understand, but they don't. I met maybe a half a dozen people who were supposedly "specialists" in depression, anxiety and self harm....none of them had ever participated or experienced their areas of expertise. So I decided, along with my therapist that this blog would serve two purposes....

1) It would give me a chance to share my story
and 2) It would help me in giving teens like me what I wish I had: someone who knew what I was going through.

So on this, my own little piece of internet real estate I will document my journey from the shadows of my former self to my realization of life; whatever, and whenever that may be.