It was about age fifteen or sixteen that the idea of suicide first took hold in me. Around fourteen I wondered if all the stress would lead me to this, but now it was real. If I don't get this fixed I'm going to kill myself, I decided. I didn't want to live a life in pain-physical or mental. I was convinced that nobody would truly want to be with me other than my current boyfriend, that I was disgusting, broken and undesirable.

I held on to my first relationship for a long time, even when things went south. It was clear that he was into another girl and we were high schoolers who had maintained a 2 year relationship. I was terrified that if we broke up I would never find anyone else again. Fortunately, (though it doesn't sound fortunate, it really was for the best-we were only 17!) he ended up cheating on me, thus ending the relationships. I have no hard feelings for him now, in fact I am thankful that he finally broke our relationship off; it was a growing point for me but of course I didn't see it then.

I was absolutely heartbroken, devastated beyond anything I had felt before. I was now alone again in my secret, nobody to talk to because I was too scared. I had great girlfriends who would have been so supportive, I know it, but in my head I convinced myself that they would see me as a freak, a weirdo who did something wrong. So, I finished out my high school career without seeking help, when I graduated, it had been 4 years since I had discovered my dysfunction and the depression was crushing. I woke up every day wondering when I was going to make it my last, and went to bed every night wishing I could just pass away in my sleep.

Of course, not every day was miserable, in fact despite the stress of my problem I was relatively happy. I was active, and I went on lots of dates (though never taking it too far, I always cut it off if I thought we were getting to like each other too much-I didn't want to know I was a sexless freak). I loves my family to death and my relationship with my younger sister Elizabeth was stronger than ever. Yes, when I wasn't consumed with thoughts about my problem I was happy. But in between the happiness I would catch myself in a daze. It was like time had stopped and I would stand there and stare at whatever was in front of me, letting grief wash over me like a cold shower. Sometimes I would cry, sometimes I would just sit down and let the weight of it all press down on me. These moments, no matter how happy I was previously squashed out any light in my life, and again I started making suicide plans. Eventually I decided if I made it to 21 and nothing had changed, I was going to do it, I was going to die. I was 19 when I gave myself this deadline.