I grew up with a different kind of childhood. Don't get me wrong, a lot of it was normal too, but it wasn't the normal Utah County childhood. I had a non-member family & parents. That was looked down on. No one will admit that they judge non-Mormons, but, trust me, it happens. I felt that I was looked down on. I wasn't born into the covenant. My family was so unlike the rest. Growing up where I did, I even judged them. I felt like I had to be like the rest of my friends families. I hated telling people that I was adopted by my grandparents, and my siblings weren't and they moved away blah, blah, blah. It made me feel dumb.
When I was going through this all, I was in elementary school. I at first went to public school. I was bullied though. Not bad. I didn't even know it was bullying. Boys just called me fat, and I knew that I was, so I just thought it was annoying that they kept saying it. So, my grandparents moved me to an LDS school called American Heritage.
I started there in 3rd grade. And I LOVED it. It was for the rich, cool and total Mormon kids. I felt like I was awesome. That place was good for me for a while. Kids seem to say and believe exactly what their parents say up until they reach 7th grade. Then they form their own opinions and beliefs. I grew up loving the church (don't get me wrong, I still do, so stop your automatic judgements) but when 7th grade started, I saw a lot of the world around me. This is when my depression started to hit me HARD for the first time. I judged myself and felt like I was a bad Mormon girl because I felt mad at God for making me feel that way.
7th grade is where this all started. It was a new feeling and I wasn't used to it. It scared me. It terrified me. I felt like the worst girl ever.
7th grade was the first year I thought of suicide. I didn't plan it or anything. And at times I think I just used it as a "cool kid" excuse like "ugh, school sucks, I will go kill myself." but then it started to feel real.
One day I was on Myspace (lol) and I saw a picture of a girl with cut wrists. I was like "WOAH! Let me try!" So I did. It hurt like hell at first. But I saw how cool that Myspace girl was. I wanted to be that way. So I kept going. I didn't think it was a big deal.
One day in 8th grade my teacher found out was concerned. She had me talk to the principle. I was so scared! When you think of someone doing that these days, it's a more serious issue. It's a mental issue and not a blaming issue. That's exactly the opposite that I got. I was reprimanded for my depression and actions. I was told that it bothered people and that it wasn't okay for me to be that way. I was told that they had too many complaints about me and that I couldn't attend there anymore. That I wasn't keeping the honor code and was making the school look bad. I was beyond shocked. I was hurt. I was mad. I was even more depressed.
They say that big moments in life make us feel better or worse. This one made me feel 10000% worse. I thought I already was worse.
9th grade was where the "bad Mardi" came out. And oh boy, it was a wild year....
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
FROM EARLY ON:
Since I was a little kid, I've had lots of challenges. I didn't have a normal family. My parents went through a divorce. They were on heavy drugs and lots of drinking. (sorry mom and dad that are reading this, it's not shame on you, it's part of my story.)
I have 3 older brothers. An older sister. And a younger sister. Colton, Michael, Seth, Amanda and Annie. I love my siblings. A lot of people must think that I don't have siblings because I was adopted by my grandparents. But, yes, I do. My siblings and I grew up together while we were young. Up until I was about 9 or 10. Then my dad and step mom ran off to Oregon and left me behind because my grandparents wanted me. And I am so grateful for their help. But at the time, I was mad. I was left behind. All my siblings left for Oregon with mom and dad. And I didn't! They didn't want me! Or at least that's how I felt. I missed them. A lot.
While I was younger, a lot happened. And I truly won't get into details. But it was so hard. I started child therapy when I was 7. I went to a few, in fact. They had be pick out toys that represented the people in my life and I could either care for them or destroy them. And I always destroyed them. I was upset. I felt like I couldn't be taken care of because I was the one left behind.
My trials started at such a young age. I was overthinking. Not playing as much. I was angry. I felt like my own mom and dad left me because I was ugly, or too fat, or stupid or basically anything. I didn't like life too much.
So at a young age...this is where it all began...
Monday, January 25, 2016
Hello. It's me, Mardi. I have a lot to say and talk about. My life has, so far, been a long and painful journey. It's also been filled with amazing moments and people. But so far, I haven't truly felt "normal". At least I don't think so. It's a weird feeling. My emotions are all over the place and it doesn't feel normal or even natural. This is my story of my ongoing recovery. It's not me saying "HELLO I AM HEALED ALL THE WAY!" No way in hell. But this is my story. It's who I am. WARNING: I might get into details. So if you are struggling with depression, this could be a trigger, don't read, at least not for now. This is just my story. And I have to put it out there. No, not for followers or likes, shares or even attention. This is just something that I need to do to help me on my path to recovery. Seeing the truth in front of me helps a lot more than letting it sit in my brain.
So...here it goes.
So...here it goes.