It all begins with me slipping into a dark and scary place in my mind, one that convinces me that I am not worth living. I begin to habitate in that scary place and befriend those who are keeping me captive there- the demons in my head. I begin to believe the lies being spoken and come up with some of my own. I lost sight of the person I knew I was before, and I started to become this scary Candace who was always on the brink of tears, who felt constantly worthless, and who at night took a broken razor and slid it deep into her wrists, hoping that the sight of my blood would slap me back to reality. I am aware that this is horribly morbid, and in no way am I saying I am proud of what I did. I am just relaying what happened. One night, I was on the phone with someone I really cared about, and I began to fear being alone. I no longer trusted myself. Before I was cutting myself just to feel something, to snap myself back to reality. Now, I was afraid that if given the opportunity, I would take that razor and follow the curves of my veins, hoping to break them open and watch the blood spill openly until it ran no more.
I called my best friend and informed her of this, and the decision was made that I genuinely needed help. Over the next week, I stayed with her for a few days and made a visit to the Mental Health Institution in my hometown. After carefully filling out a form, and being 100% honest, I was told that there were no empty time slots for me, even though on the paper I had admitted to my use of alcohol and drugs and to the fact that I cut myself. When the woman read this, she said loudly, "It says on here you've hurt yourself recently. How?" She lacked sensitivity, and just yelled my issues out to all the people sitting in the reception room.
I walked out feeling completely rejected, as though my problems weren't good enough for them to deal with right now. Over these next few days, my mom went through my room and read my blog and found out what was going on. Upon confrontation, she asked to see my wrists right in front of my 5 year old brother. That really hurt me because he is so young, and my parents are letting him see what is going on. I really feel like he is much too young to understand, and this will only blemish his image of his older sister. My parents showed me some sort of sympathy, telling me they'd be there for me if I needed it.
Guess what? That was over a week ago, and I haven't really talked to my mom since then. After getting into a fight over my boyfriend, they asked me to leave. Well, I left. They have yet to call to see if I have a place to stay or if I am okay. At a time like this, it really hurts to have that happen. It feels like the biggest form of rejection, because this is the time I need them the most. I know I am 19 years old, but all I need right now is for someone to just hold me tight and run their fingers through my hair as I cry out all of the hurt I've felt, and that has always been my mom's job. And now she is not longer in my life. Who is going to do that now?
I am at a point in my life where I feel completely rejected. I've been listening to the Glee version of Cindi Lauper's "True Colors" for almost an hour now on repeat.
You with the sad eyes
don't be discouraged
oh I realize
it's hard to take courage
in a world full of people
you can lose sight of it all
and the darkness inside you
can make you fell so small
I'm just so lost right now. I feel so lost and alone. I just want somewhere to go....
