Since there was a lot of other things going on during that time frame, there seemed to be that much more contention going on within the family, and between my parents. There were some things I enjoyed about going to school, but for the most part I felt completely out of place. It was around this time that I developed the feelings that if I didn't have a boyfriend I was No One. I think a lot of that attachment sense was developed because of the sexual abuse earlier on in my life, but the feelings of that seemed to explode once I started attending public school. I had my first "boyfriend" about halfway through the school year, and was completely devastated when he broke up with me. Even though the relationship was silly, and completely pointless, I felt that since I no longer had a guy, I must be a loser. It seemed like from that time forward I learned to draw any feelings of worth from whether or not I had a boyfriend. It was such an unhealthy way of thinking, and led me to get into so many relationships with stupid guys at a young age just because I was desperate to feel "wanted" to feel like I had some worth, to feel loved. In a way I felt like my ability to feel love or worth was robbed from me at a young age because of the sexual abuse; and now the only way I knew how to recreate those feelings was to have someone to use me again.
I could go on all day about all of the complete loser guys I fell for because of my lack of self-esteem, but I will just share some of the main things that contributed to who I am today, and my need for recovery. Overall my depression, and feelings of complete worthlessness took a dramatic rise by being apart of the public school system. I never loved my appearance much, but it wasn't until I started going to school that I started completely hating everything about my image. I hated my face, I can't tell you how much I wished I had a different face; I thought I was so ugly. I did not like the rest of my body either, a lot of the time I was uncomfortable with my weight. I was very skinny for my height, and I was always hearing comments about how tiny I was. Normally some people might enjoy receiving those comments, but where I already hated my image, I hated these comments. It was everything from "You look like a twig," "You're so skinny it's gross," "You look like you're anorexic" all I could think of in my mind, is: "Yes, thank you, I already know I look gross, but it's not like I am trying to look this way." I ate normally, I didn't starve myself, and there was no way that I was anorexic; but always hearing those comments made me very self-conscious about my image/weight.
Between the years of 8-9th grade I felt like my self-esteem was steadily getting worse, and by the time I reached 10th grade I felt like my life consisted of daily fighting thoughts of suicide. I hated school, I absolutely hated it; I loved learning, but I felt like public school was filled with so much social drama and negativity that it wasn't even worth it. I was a good student, had a 4.0; but I hated the social aspect of the school, and since it was a small school there was a ton of drama. I was so obsessed about my appearance by this time, it felt like I spent hours and hours each day checking myself in the mirror, even if just a hair was a little out of place I felt like I must look horrible. Looking back now, it was completely ridiculous how much I cared about my appearance, and how badly it affected my depression. Not only was my ridiculous obsession with my appearance and hating how I looked spiking my depression, but the guys I began dating were getting worse and worse when it came to standards. It didn't take long for me to start getting used by each guy I dated, I gave into so much stuff that I did not want, and had no desire to participate in. My views of wanting to feel worth, and longing for love had become so skewed that I would go against everything I believed in just to feel like someone wanted me for a moment. I come from a strong LDS background, and had always been such a good girl (not to mention naive) I had no desire to participate in anything sexual at that time, I knew it was wrong, and I knew what I believed. But somehow in the mix of my depression hitting an all-time low, I would sacrifice everything I was just to feel loved for a short amount of time. Of course, naturally guys took advantage of that; telling me that they "loved me" just so that they could push me as far as they possibly could. At this point I still would not allow myself to lose my virginity, because I wanted that for my marriage, I wanted to make sure that I saved that for the guy that I knew 100% that he actually loved me.
My life turned into a cycle of getting a new boyfriend, dating him until he would use me to the point where he knew he couldn't push my boundaries any further, then getting dumped. Then it was onto the depression pit; not only because I was the loser that got dumped, but because I lowered my standards for that loser that was so willing to pretend like he loved me, just so that he could use me. Then I would make my way to the bishop's office, trying to repent of my mistakes, trying desperately to fix who I was becoming. Not long after, I would get asked out by the next guy, who of course would do the same thing, and I would fall for it because I was so desperate to feel some type of worth. I was forced into doing a lot of things I did not want to do, but since I felt worthless, it was hard to feel like it mattered that people did this to me. This cycle is how I spent high school, and in the midst of it developed a lot of unhealthy coping outlets. I started cutting; wrists, arms, legs, wherever I felt the urge. Call me a freak, but even today I still have the scar of a name carved on my leg of an ex boyfriend, as a depressing reminder of the nightmare of a life I used to live. I felt so hollow inside, so dead, that I think I longed to feel the physical pain to at least help me feel a little alive. I never slept at night, I would stay up thinking about how much I hated myself, I could not shut the thoughts off, I wanted so desperately to just shut them off. All I could think about is that I needed to die, that there was no reason for me to live, I had no worth, I was nothing. I started overdosing on random pills I could find around the house, out of attempts to end my life. Of course at that point I was a little naive as to what it would actually take to kill myself with pills, but the attempts were still very real, and very frightening. I would inhale harsh chemicals just hoping that it would do enough damage to maybe fry my brain or something, I would use myself as a punching bag, trying to beat my head on anything I could find. I was so hopeless, all I wanted to do was be free of this life, I had enough of it. There were many nights I would just plead with God, begging him to please end my life, take me home, I had no place here, I did not deserve to live. I had a best friend that stood by my side through this all, she is literally a god-send, that girl has saved my life on more occasions than I can count. I am so grateful I had her in my life, and at the same time felt so unworthy of her friendship and the love that she showed me.
To understand a little how I was feeling, you have to understand just how I was before I hit this stage of my life. I was a good girl when it came to church standards (even to the point where I would get made fun of by my other church friends, because I was "too churchy" for them) I read my scriptures cover to cover time and time again, I prayed, I loved my parent's and obeyed them, etc. I was so excited to some day be able to marry in the temple, it was my ultimate goal, and I wanted nothing to keep me from getting there. That being said, when I hit this point in my life, the mistakes I was making were completely devastating to me, I did not want to be that person. The last thing I wanted to do was sin against God, I wanted so desperately to be acceptable in his eyes, and worth it. So when I would make mistakes, I would blow it up to the point where I felt there was no way I deserved God's love, or anyone's love for that matter. Those feelings would take over my depression, making me feel like my only option would be to kill myself. (Of course my mindset was very skewed at the time, but those were my true feelings, and it was terrifying not knowing how to escape them). The other thing that was so devastating for me was the fact that my parent's always saw me as the good child, the helper in the family, the peace-maker. So when I started struggling, I knew I had completely disappointed them, and that was something that was so hard for me to bear. Of course they still didn't know of the turmoil I was facing from my earlier years, and they didn't get why I was depressed, so it was hard for them to understand what all of a sudden flipped the switch, and where their good little girl went.
By this point things were getting serious enough that my good friend decided she had no choice but to let my parents know what was going on, and at this point my bishop was also made aware of my severe depression problems. Nobody understood why I was depressed, to them it was "Kelsie, you are so pretty, how can you be depressed?" but they couldn't see how I felt on the inside, I felt like trash, like I had already died on the inside; like I was robbed of worth long ago. I spent many nights supervised, just to make sure that I would not harm myself, and that I would actually be alive the next morning. Of course my spike in depression/suicidal tendencies didn't help how people viewed me at school; I already felt like a freak, but now people were starting to notice it more and more. During high school, I'm pretty sure that I had heard every rumor about myself that you could ever imagine, and had been categorized into every cliche possible. Some called me a prep and stuck up; because I dressed nice, didn't talk much, and had the blue-eyes, blonde hair look. Other's called me a stoner and a druggy because I would go to school with my eyes bloodshot, and be barely coherent because of my lack of sleep and my tendencies of self-harm. Some called me a Gothic; because I would listen to angry music, walk with my head down, dress in dark clothes, and they would see my scars. I got called a slut, and a whore, because of the rumors of me apparently "sleeping with every guy in the school." I got called a freak, because rumors would spread about me attempting suicide, or my cuts, or my depression. I got called a loser, because I had pretty much one friend in high school (other than the guys that would pretend to be my friend for long enough to use me) I had heard every name and rumor in the book; and to say the least, it hurt, especially since I was already fighting just to stay alive.
My bishop finally decided that I needed some counseling, so he offered to help pay for me to see a LDS counselor. It was very low-key, and he wasn't very professional, we would meet up at a church building weekly. Problem with trying to do counseling, at this point I had about zero desire to get help, all I wanted was to just escape the pain. So mainly the counseling would consist of him trying to get me to talk, I would say very little if anything at all, then he would tell me that I was just wasting people's time and money (Great thing to tell someone that is already suicidal, ha!) It got to the point where he threatened that if I didn't start talking, that he would send an ambulance to my house, they'd put me in a straight jacket and haul me off to the mental hospital, and they did not need my parent's permission. Well that was comforting....NOT. By that point I was so ready to be done with the stupid "counseling." I knew he didn't care about me, he acted like I was a waste of space, and was threatening to put me in a mental hospital. It was then that I finally started doing a little talking, but mainly just lied through my teeth acting like I was doing fine so that I could be done having to deal with that guy. I definitely resented counseling at that point in time; and felt like NO ONE could ever understand me, let alone actually help me.
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